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With young Wanda on one side and young Pietro on the other, Mark gently coaxed the two children to sleep. Once he confirmed they were both resting soundly, he sat up again, resuming his training in the manipulation and cultivation of qi.
"It's about time to get some sleep,"
he murmured to himself.
Observing that it was nearly midnight, he began to make preparations to retire for the night. However, just as he lay down and allowed his body to relax into the mattress, he became faintly aware of the sound of footsteps coming from the floor above. Given that his body was now physically enhanced far beyond that of an average human being, his five senses had similarly evolved, affording him heightened perception and an acute awareness of his surroundings.
Suddenly, with a sharp whooshing sound, a young girl roughly his age passed through the ceiling and descended directly into his room.
Startled, Mark leapt up and swiftly caught her in his arms.
"What happened?" he asked with urgency.
The girl, capable of phasing through solid matter, was none other than Kitty Pryde, known as Shadowcat. He had met her briefly before dinner in the cafeteria, Colossus had introduced him to a few other students at the school.
"Mark, there were several men with guns. They barged into my room and tried to attack me!" she explained, visibly shaken and anxious.
Just as her words reached their end, a chilling and bloodcurdling scream pierced through the otherwise still atmosphere of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. The scream was so powerful and intense that Mark, Shadowcat, and even the now-awakened Wanda and Pietro all instinctively clutched their ears in pain, grimacing from the intensity of the auditory assault.
"That must be Theresa," Mark muttered.
Theresa, a student of similar age to Wanda, possessed the mutant ability to produce sonic screams of extraordinary amplitude. From the nature of the scream and its suddenness, it was evident she had been attacked in a similar fashion as Shadowcat.
Moments after the scream subsided, heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway just outside the room.
Without hesitation, Mark activated the character panel in his mind and loaded the 'Protagonist Template' corresponding to a thirteen-year-old Son Goku.
Although his current strength was sufficient to take down a few unarmed adult men, he understood that facing a well-trained team of armed assailants was an entirely different matter, especially given the need to protect Wanda and Pietro.
In the span of a breath, his hair spiked upward and lengthened, his body clothed itself in the traditional Turtle School martial arts uniform, and the iconic Power Pole materialized across his back. Before the door was violently kicked open, his transformation was already complete.
"Stay behind me!" he instructed resolutely.
In the blink of an eye, Mark, now in Goku form, dashed forward toward three soldiers wielding tranquilizer rifles. Before they had time to react, he delivered a swift strike to each, and they were launched backward as if struck by speeding trucks, crashing into the walls and rendered unconscious.
"Let them go!" he shouted.
Initially, Mark had intended to escort Wanda, Pietro, and the others to a secure location before returning to confront the attackers. It was the sensible plan: calculated, efficient, low-risk. But the moment he stepped out of the room and caught sight of fellow students being manhandled by masked intruders, something primal awakened within him. The Goku persona, dormant yet ever-present, surged forward like a tide, bringing with it an unwavering and almost reckless sense of justice.
A single thought echoed in his mind
'I can't stand by and do nothing.'
In an instant, the plan was forgotten. Mark's boots slammed against the polished corridor floor as he launched himself down the hallway. The air trembled from the sheer speed of his motion. There was no hesitation and no second thoughts. Only action.
The soldiers, clad in tactical armor and trained to remain composed under fire, registered his approach within milliseconds. Their discipline kicked in immediately.
"Engage! Suppress the target!"
Tranquilizer darts screamed through the air like tiny missiles, aimed with surgical precision. But Mark was already moving, his body a blur. With a sharp tug, he unsheathed the Power Pole from the harness on his back. It extended in a flash humming with latent power. He spun it into a radiant wheel of motion, deflecting the darts in a mesmerizing display of martial finesse.
"Thip-thip-thip!"
Darts ricocheted harmlessly off the spinning staff, bouncing off walls, floor, and ceiling. To the soldiers, it must have seemed like they were firing at a hurricane. Even if they had been using live rounds, it would have made little difference. Mark's physique, a fusion of human durability and Goku's superhuman resistance, rendered shallow wounds meaningless. Only his most vulnerable spots, eyes, ears, and throat, required any measure of caution, but his instincts guarded those with relentless precision.
Despite the fiery influence of Son Goku that coursed through him, Mark remained himself. He didn't lose his sense of identity in battle. He wasn't a brawler driven by impulse. He fought with intention, each move calculated and guided by compassion and clarity. Where Goku might have leapt headlong into chaos, Mark adapted. He was an upgraded warrior, not just strong but also sharp.
"Switch to live rounds!" barked one of the soldiers, panic bleeding into his voice despite training.
They moved to comply, but it was already too late.
Mark vanished, or so it seemed to the human eye. In truth, he accelerated so suddenly that the soldiers saw only afterimages, flickering shadows and smears of motion.
Crack!
The first blow landed with seismic force, the Power Pole crashing into a soldier's chestplate and sending him hurtling backward like a ragdoll. He slammed into a wall, armor crumpling on impact, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
Bam! Crack! Thud!
The hallway exploded into chaos as Mark weaved through them like a lightning storm wrapped in human form. He moved too fast to track and too fluid to anticipate. The Power Pole struck with devastating precision, elbows, knees, ribs, helmets each hit controlled, designed to disable rather than kill. He didn't need to end lives to end a fight.
"Strike! Strike! Strike!" The command echoed within his own mind. It wasn't a verbal order, but a rhythm, a pulse, a tempo he followed like a warrior monk reciting an ancient chant.
He twirled the Power Pole overhead and brought it down in a sweeping arc that knocked two attackers off their feet. A third raised his weapon, but Mark slid low, swept the soldier's legs from beneath him, and struck him in the chest mid-fall.
Smoke filled the air from disrupted equipment. Sparks flared from damaged visors. Shouts devolved into grunts and gasps as, one by one, the intruders were overwhelmed.
And then it was over.
The last soldier crumpled to the floor, groaning, barely conscious. Silence fell, broken only by the faint hum of the extended Power Pole and Mark's measured breathing.
"That was so awesome!" came the collective gasp from the trio of children who had emerged from the room. Their wide-eyed admiration was evident.
Even Wanda and Pietro, who were aware of Mark's impressive strength, had never imagined he possessed such formidable combat capabilities.
"Stay close to me," Mark instructed.
With Wanda and a group of newly freed students in tow, he began making his way downstairs. Along the way, he dispatched every soldier that attempted to impede their progress, moving with surgical efficiency. In no time, he had rescued over a dozen students, and soon encountered Colossus, who was similarly engaged in evacuation efforts.
"Mark, over here!" Colossus called out.
Now in his metallic form, Colossus carried an unconscious student in his arms, having been struck by a tranquilizer dart.
He knocked on a section of wall that concealed a hidden passageway, revealing the school's emergency evacuation route. Upon spotting Mark and the group of children, he gestured frantically for them to enter.
While many of the school's students possessed a variety of extraordinary powers, they had received little to no combat training. They were, after all, just children, some as young as seven or eight years old.
Only Colossus, a near-graduate who had chosen to remain at the school and undergo formal X-Men training, could be considered a proper combatant.
In the current situation, the priority was not to mount a counteroffensive but to ensure the students' safety by evacuating them through the designated emergency channels.
"Where's Professor Xavier?"
Mark asked as he kicked away two soldiers barring their path.
Under normal circumstances, with Professor X present, such intrusions would be inconceivable. The Professor's immense psychic powers would have neutralized the threat long before the intruders breached the school's perimeter.
Even a formidable adversary like Magneto, if caught without his signature helmet, would fall prey to the Professor's mind control.
"They're all out. The Professor and the others left earlier tonight and won't be back until tomorrow!"
Colossus replied, reverting to his human form as he spoke. He stared in amazement at Mark, astonished by the young boy's prowess in battle. Though he had heard from Wanda and Pietro that Mark had unusual strength and a prodigious appetite, he hadn't anticipated that a mere child would be so proficient in combat.
Suddenly, screams rang out from a corner in the corridor to the right. A muscular man, bare-chested and emanating raw aggression, appeared. With a roar, he extended razor-sharp metal claws from his hands and drove them into the chests of two enemy soldiers, pinning them against the wall until they went limp. More students emerged behind him, clearly recently rescued.
"That's Logan, Wolverine!" Mark exclaimed, instantly recognizing him by his iconic adamantium claws and unrestrained ferocity.
Colossus confirmed Mark's identification. "Mr. Logan, what's our next move?"
"Kid, have all the students been accounted for?" Wolverine asked, flicking the blood off his claws with practiced ease.
Colossus glanced toward the passageway where the students were streaming in and replied quickly, "Bobby, John, and Rogue are missing!"
"I'll go find them. You get these kids to safety," Wolverine ordered, turning toward the opposite direction.
"I'm coming with you," Mark offered.
Wanda and Pietro would be safe with Colossus and the others in the hidden passage. This was the perfect opportunity to help Wolverine clear out the remaining invaders and perhaps earn more justice points for doing the right thing.
"Kid, wait till you grow up and become a real fighter. For now, stay with them and be good," Wolverine replied, briefly scanning Mark's youthful appearance and dismissing him with a wave of his hand. It was clear he didn't think a preteen could contribute meaningfully.
At that moment, the glass at the end of the hallway shattered. A combat helicopter hovered just outside, its powerful searchlight flooding the corridor. Almost immediately, the chopper's machine guns began to spin.
"Ah, shit, move!" Wolverine cursed, extending his claws and charging toward the gunfire.
But he had barely made it halfway across the corridor when a hailstorm of bullets forced him to a halt. Though his mutant healing factor rendered him virtually unkillable, the barrage kept him pinned down, preventing any meaningful advance.