Chapter 5: Carnage Under the Moon
The CIA base was a slaughterhouse bathed in cold moonlight, the courtyard a grotesque canvas of blood and broken bodies. Shadows twisted across the gravel, jagged and sharp, as a red-skinned mutant materialized high above, his demonic grin flashing under the silver glow.
Azazel, one of Sebastian Shaw's deadliest enforcers, clutched a screaming office worker, his tail coiling around the man's throat. With a cruel chuckle, he teleported away—pop—leaving the man to plummet, his scream cut short by a sickening thud as he hit the pavement, blood pooling around his shattered form.
Pop, pop, pop!
The air crackled with the sound of displaced space, a relentless rhythm of death. Azazel's teleportation spree turned the base into a killing field, bodies raining down like macabre confetti.
Men and women, agents and clerks, fell from the sky, their screams echoing before ending in wet, bone-crunching impacts. Across the compound, a roaring tornado—unleashed by Riptide, Shaw's other henchman—tore toward Hank's Cerebro-like machine, a massive spherical device built to track mutants worldwide. The base was under siege, chaos erupting from two fronts as gunfire and shouts filled the night.
Inside the recreation room, the young mutants cowered, their earlier bravado—shattering windows, melting statues—reduced to ash. Alex's hands shook, Banshee's face was ghost-white, and Angel's wings twitched nervously, her acid-spitting bravado gone. They were kids with powers, not warriors, and the slaughter outside was a brutal wake-up call.
Raven's eyes darted through the chaos, Her breath hitched as she saw the terror on her friends' faces, their powers useless against this onslaught. Then her gaze landed on Ron, leaning against the bar, his posture relaxed, his piercing blue eyes glinting with cold amusement. His blonde hair caught the moonlight streaming through the shattered window, his leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders. He was a rock in the storm, untouched by fear. Something in her stirred—a primal trust, a pull she couldn't explain. She stepped toward him, her voice trembling but resolute. "Ron… what do we do?"
"It's gotta be the guys Charles warned us about," Alex said, his voice tight as he stared at the courtyard, where another body hit with a wet splat.
"Get behind me. I can protect you," Darwin said, swallowing hard as he stepped forward. His adaptive evolution could handle a lot, but his eyes betrayed his fear, his tall frame tense.
Ron's lips curled into a faint, predatory smirk, his amusement at the chaos almost palpable. Like watching ants scatter, he thought, savoring the panic. His gaze flicked to Raven, her pleading face sparking not compassion but opportunity. The Template System hummed in his mind, its interface glowing with new options. The mutants' frantic contact—brushing past him in their panic—had unlocked two powers he'd been eyeing.
Buy [Mutant Darwin Template] and [Mutant Alex Template]. Cost: 20,000 points.
Remaining: 28,900.
A surge of heat flooded his body, intense but painless, like fire weaving through his veins. His limitless genetic capacity absorbed the powers seamlessly. After a few seconds, the heat faded, and Ron glanced at his hands, a dark smile playing on his lips. Cosmic energy—radiation, thermal, electromagnetic—trickled into him, Havok's plasma power charging slowly in the dim night. Darwin's adaptive evolution, though, was ready, poised to activate in danger. Survival of the fittest, he thought, his eyes glinting with menace. Let's see who survives tonight.
The base's security finally mobilized, agents with rifles storming the courtyard. But Azazel was a phantom, teleporting behind them with a pop, his short blades flashing as he carved through flesh with surgical precision. Blood sprayed, bodies crumpled, and the gunfire faltered, overwhelmed by his relentless assault.
Smash!
A stray bullet shattered the rec room's window, glass raining down as the mutants screamed and ducked. "Stay here and quit whining!" Ron snapped, his voice sharp with irritation, his patience for their panic long gone. With the fluid grace of a predator, he sprang through the broken window, his claws—Sabretooth's deadly gift—extending with a snick. He landed in the courtyard, his boots crunching on blood-soaked gravel, his eyes locking onto Azazel.
The red-skinned mutant was choking an agent with his demonic tail, swinging the man like a toy. He tossed the corpse aside, his sharp teeth bared in a savage grin as he faced Ron.
"Well, well," Azazel said, his voice a low, guttural growl, thick with a Russian accent. "A bold cub dares to challenge me?" His eyes, yellow and slitted, gleamed with cruel amusement, his tail flicking like a whip.
Ron tilted his head, his voice dripping with mockery. "I expected a demon straight from hell, but you're just a red-skinned thug with a cheap magic trick." His tone was sharp, cutting, his blue eyes glinting with dangerous confidence.
Azazel's grin twisted into a snarl, his pride stung. In the X-Men universe, he was a feared enforcer, his teleportation and blades a nightmare for his enemies.
"You'll beg for mercy before I'm done, boy," he hissed, his blades flashing as he lunged, the air whistling with their speed.
Ron moved like liquid lightning, his lean, explosive frame—honed by Sabretooth's power—dodging Azazel's blades with ease. His enhanced senses slowed the world to a crawl, every move deliberate, predatory. He struck back, his claws raking across Azazel's face, carving five bloody gashes. The mutant stumbled, clutching his wounds, his snarl faltering. "Troublesome cub," he spat, his voice thick with rage but unshaken.
Their fight was a deadly ballet—claws versus blades, agility versus teleportation. Azazel's strength was formidable, but Ron's streamlined muscles gave him the edge, his movements a blur of precision and power. Azazel teleported behind him, his tail wrapping around Ron's ankle with a vice-like grip.
Pop!
They vanished, reappearing hundreds of feet in the air, plummeting through thick clouds under the moonlight.
"You'll break like the others!" Azazel roared, releasing Ron and teleporting back to the ground. He grinned up at the sky, waiting for the kid to splatter.
"Ron, no!" Raven screamed from the window, her voice breaking as the other mutants gasped, their faces pale with horror.
Pop!
A familiar sound echoed behind Azazel. His grin froze, his yellow eyes widening. A cold, magnetic voice purred from the shadows. "Looking for me?"
Before Azazel could react, Ron's claw tore through his throat, blood spraying like a crimson fountain. The mutant gasped, clutching his gushing neck, his eyes wide with disbelief. "How…?" he choked, his knees buckling as he staggered back.
Buy [Mutant Azazel Template]. Cost: 15,500 points.
Remaining: 13,400.
Ron's smirk was cold, his voice laced with mockery. "Your own power became your downfall—how deliciously ironic." The moment he touched Azazel, he spent his points to acquire the template, years of hoarded points finally bearing fruit. The demon's power was his now. In the end, the Template System's versatility was his ace—flipping the predator into prey.
Azazel collapsed, his lifeless eyes staring at the sky, blood pooling beneath him.
Ability Points: +18,100.
Total: 31,500.
His death was a seismic shift—Azazel was meant to survive, join Magneto later. Ron had just rewritten the X-Men timeline again, and the points were his reward.
Ron didn't stop there. Before the young mutants could even react, while Azazel's blood was still spilling onto the ground, he moved like a panther. Riptide, who had just destroyed a Cerebro-like device, froze as a pop sounded behind him—Ron materializing in an instant. Ron's claws plunged into Riptide's throat, tearing through his windpipe and flesh, hot blood dripping from his talons. Riptide's eyes bulged, wide as saucers.
He was dead before he could even react.
Ability Points: +11,000.
Total: 42,500.
Expected outcome, Ron thought. After all, Riptide's destructive power required a cooldown. Azazel's assassin-level ability left him defenseless, and Ron's ability to copy others' powers was an unexpected trump card—one he wielded to devastating effect.
"They're… dead," Raven whispered, her voice shaky as she stared at the corpses. The other mutants gaped, their awe tinged with dread. Ron hadn't just won; he'd slaughtered Azazel and Riptide with a predator's ruthlessness, his efficiency chilling. "He's like a damn assassin," Alex stammered, his voice a mix of admiration and unease, struggling to process the carnage.
"You're incredible, Ron!" Raven said, her eyes locked on him, her trembling voice carrying a note of awe—and something deeper, a flicker of fascination. She stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm, her touch lingering, electric. Her pulse raced, her breath catching at his dangerous allure, his leather jacket creaking as he turned to face her. For a moment, their eyes met, and she felt a pull, like gravity, drawing her to him.
Ron's smirk widened, savoring their shock but especially Raven's gaze. Points and a fan club—not bad, he thought, his amusement cold and calculated.
He turned toward the main entrance, where a scream and a thud echoed from the hallway. "Spare me—!" A plea cut off abruptly, followed by the crunch of bone.
The door swung open, and Sebastian Shaw, the Black King, strode in, his tailored suit pristine, his strange helmet gleaming under the flickering lights. He'd just shrugged off an RPG and a hundred special forces like they were nothing, his energy-absorbing power rendering him untouchable. "What a lovely evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said, his voice smooth and commanding, a charming smile playing on his lips like a king addressing his court.
Then his gaze fell on Azazel's corpse in the courtyard, Riptide's body nearby, both sprawled in pools of blood. His smile vanished, his face hardening into a mask of icy rage.
"Well, now," he said, his voice low, dangerous, carrying the weight of a man used to absolute control. "One of you has been… unexpected." His eyes swept the room, chilling the air like a winter storm, and locked onto Ron. The energy within Shaw surged, a palpable wave of power that made the mutants flinch.
"Was it you who killed my men?" Shaw asked, his tone calm but laced with menace, his gaze piercing like a blade.
Ron met his eyes, his smirk unwavering, his voice sharp and confident. "Is that even a question?" he said, his claws twitching, his body thrumming with the combined powers of Sabretooth, Azazel, Darwin, and Havok. Time to take down a king.