Chapter 6: A Quick Getaway
The secret compound reeked of blood and charred metal, the aftermath of carnage etched into every wall and shattered window. Moonlight cut sharp lines through the debris, painting the courtyard in jagged, ghostly shadows. Silence hovered like a predator, broken only by distant cries and the occasional crash of collapsing structures, reminding the young mutants just how fragile their bravado had been.
At the doorway stood Sebastian Shaw, the Black King, his tailored suit immaculate, his strange helmet gleaming like a dark crown. His energy-absorbing power had shrugged off a hundred special forces and an RPG without a scratch. Among mortals, he was a god. His voice, smooth yet commanding, filled the room like a preacher's sermon:
"What a delightful evening, ladies and gentlemen."
His gaze swept over the courtyard, landing on the bloodied corpses of Azazel and Riptide sprawled in the dirt. The young mutants—Alex, Banshee, Darwin, Angel—frozen in terror, their earlier bravado crushed by the sight of Sebastian Shaw, the Black King. Then his gaze locked onto Ron, his piercing blue eyes glinting with cold amusement. Shaw's smile faltered, his face hardening into a mask of icy rage. "Was it you who killed my men?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm, a predator sizing up its prey.
Ron's lips curled into a sardonic smirk, his voice sharp with defiance. "Is that even a question?" He stepped forward, his leather jacket creaking, his blonde hair catching the moonlight. With a fluid motion, he reached out, his hand clamping onto Raven's waist, pulling her flush against his body. Her eyes wide with shock.
"Huh?" Raven gasped, a rush of heat flooding her face. Her heart pounded, a frantic rhythm against his chest, her mind reeling from the sudden closeness. His grip was firm, cold, yet her body burned where he touched her, a confusing mix of fear and something electric. Before she could speak, the world blinked.
Pop!
Ron activated Azazel's teleportation power, and they vanished, reappearing in a dark alley miles from the base. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of asphalt and garbage, a single dim yellow streetlamp flickering at the alley's end. Raven's breath hitched, her pulse racing as she pressed against him, the cold night air no match for the heat of his body.
"Ron, where are we?" she stammered, her voice a fragile whisper, her eyes searching his face.
"Somewhere safe," he said, his voice a low, calm rumble, his hand still on her waist. "That guy back there. He's a hell of a lot deadlier than the two I just took out." His blue eyes glinted with a cold, calculating amusement, his grip tightening briefly before he stepped back.
Raven shivered, not from the cold but from the intensity of his presence. Her heart raced, her body caught between terror and a strange, magnetic pull. He saved me, she thought, her cheeks still flushed. Ron's detached confidence, his utter lack of fear, made her feel anchored, protected—yet dangerously drawn to him. He noticed her trembling, his smirk deepening. So easy to rattle, he thought, savoring the power he held over her. Raven wasn't just a mutant; her shapeshifting DNA was a goldmine, the key to future Sentinel programs. She was a prize to protect, to mold, to own. And he relished how effortlessly she was captivated.
Azazel's teleportation wasn't instantaneous—its pop gave it away, and its speed was limited. Ron had caught him and Riptide off guard. But Shaw? He was a different beast. His ability to absorb and redirect energy—bullets, explosions, even nuclear blasts—made him a walking fortress. His strength, speed, and endurance could spike to superhuman levels, and his mild healing factor made him nearly immortal. Tricking him would be tougher.
"I brought you here to keep you safe," Ron said, his tone casual, almost bored, as if discussing a grocery list. "If a fight breaks out, you'd be in the way."
"Thank you, Ron," Raven said, her voice soft, her eyes shining with gratitude. She stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm, lingering a moment too long. Her pulse quickened, her breath catching at the intensity of his gaze.
He felt a flicker of impatience but masked it with a soft, convincing lie. "Wait here. Don't move, no matter what. I'll be back." What a hassle, he thought. It's probably a bloodbath by now, and she's still clinging. The others' lives meant nothing to him. He was going back to study Shaw's powers, maybe even kill him for the points. With a pop, he teleported back to the base.
He expected carnage, but instead found Shaw mid-speech, his voice magnetic, his presence commanding the room like a dictator.
"Your companions have abandoned you," Shaw said, his tone smooth but heavy with menace. "I'm here to usher in a new era—a world where mutants rule as kings. Join me, or die clinging to a rotting past. The choice is yours." His gaze swept over Alex, Banshee, Darwin, and Angel, each flinching under its weight.
Pop!
Ron reappeared, interrupting Shaw's monologue. The Black King's eyes narrowed, his composure cracking. "How did you do that?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you share Azazel's gift?" The idea of a mutant mimicking his enforcer's power was unsettling, incomprehensible.
Ron's smirk was pure defiance, his voice dripping with mockery. "That was a hell of a speech. Keep going, don't mind me." He placed a hand on Hank's shoulder, preparing to teleport again.
"You won't slip away twice!" Shaw snarled, raising his hand. A fireball erupted, its deafening boom shaking the room, the air sizzling with raw energy.
"Your new era sounds like a bad rerun," Ron shot back, his tone sharp. He vanished with Hank, reappearing outside a dive bar, its neon sign buzzing "The Rusty Anchor." Hank stumbled, his oversized glasses askew, his massive feet scuffing the pavement.
"Stay here," Ron said, his voice clipped. Hank wasn't just a mutant; his genius—creator of Cerebro, the Blackbird—was a resource Ron intended to exploit. And controlling Raven? That was the key to controlling Hank, who'd always been smitten with her.
Pop!
Ron returned to the base, where Shaw's patience had snapped. "Enough!" the Black King roared, his voice a volcanic eruption of rage. "Surrender or die!" He'd already taken down Banshee and Angel with ease, his power overwhelming. Banshee clutched his chest, gasping, while Angel cowered, her wings trembling.
"Ron, take me!" Angel pleaded, rushing toward him like a drowning woman grasping for a lifeline. She'd been ready to surrender, but Ron's return gave her hope.
"Go where?" Ron said, his voice cold, his eyes flicking over her with dismissive disdain. "This new power's got limits. That was my last jump." A lie—his Template System let him master abilities instantly, but he wasn't here to play taxi. He had plans, and they didn't include saving everyone.
"What?" Alex and Darwin, sprawled on the floor, looked horrified. They'd seen Ron slaughter Azazel with ease, but Shaw was a monster. His energy absorption had shrugged off their attacks like they were nothing. Escape was their only shot, and now it was gone.
"Pathetic," Shaw said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Running from a play I'm directing? Unacceptable." His eyes locked onto Ron, narrowing with suspicion. This mutant wasn't just a fighter—he was something else, something dangerous.
"No, wait!" Angel's voice cracked with panic. She bolted to Shaw's side, her wings twitching as she begged. "I'll join you! I'll help build your mutant empire! Just don't kill me!"
"Angel?!" Alex's face twisted with betrayal, his fists clenching.
Ron's expression didn't flicker, carved in stone. Predictable, he thought. She'd folded the moment things got real.
"A wise choice," Shaw said smoothly, his gaze sweeping the others. "Anyone else?"
"You talk too much," Ron cut in, his voice sharp as a blade. He lunged, claws flashing in a blur, aiming for Shaw's throat.
"Go!" Alex roared, rallying the others. They charged, desperation fueling their courage. Ron's presence gave them a spark, a chance against the unstoppable.
Shaw sighed, his face a mask of mock regret. "So few understand true vision." He moved faster than thought, his fist slamming into Ron, sending him crashing into the wall. Plaster cracked, dust billowing.
Alex fired a plasma blade, its red glow slicing the air. Shaw caught it in his palm, absorbing it effortlessly. "Not bad," he said, his voice calm. He opened his hand, and a fist-sized beam of pure energy shot out, punching through Banshee's chest. Smoke curled, the stench of charred flesh filling the air. Banshee crumpled, lifeless, his scream silenced forever.
Darwin roared, his arms morphing into black stone hammers. He swung with enough force to crush a car, but Shaw didn't flinch. "A child's tantrum," he said, his fist slamming down. The impact drove Darwin's skull through the tiles, his body sinking into the floor like a nail under a hammer.
Above, Angel's wings buzzed, her acid spit aimed at Alex. "Traitor!" he shouted, dodging and firing a plasma blade back.
Ron rebounded, his claws sprouting steel-like spikes, his body adapting under Darwin's power. He blurred forward, but Shaw caught him mid-swipe, his iron grip locking Ron's wrists, claws inches from his eyes. "You're fast," Shaw said, his voice low, almost impressed. "But not fast enough. Join me, or I'll break you. You're too… valuable."
Ron's lips curled into a dark, defiant grin. "Break me? Good luck." His muscles tensed, his body shimmering as Darwin's adaptation hardened his flesh into high-density steel, resisting Shaw's crushing force.
Shaw's composure cracked, his eyes blazing. This mutant wouldn't kneel. Energy surged within him, a living bomb ready to erupt. "You're a fool," he growled.
"Not yet," Ron said, his voice cold and sharp. He twisted, breaking Shaw's grip, and the world blinked.
Pop!
They reappeared in the night sky above a suburban crematorium, its smokestack belching flames and ash. The reek of burning flesh hit Shaw's nose, his face twisting in shock. "You lied!" he roared, his voice shaking with fury. "You can still teleport? Where the hell am I?"
Ron's grin was merciless. "Suburban crematorium. Enjoy the view." His boots slammed into Shaw's gut, breaking his grip. They tumbled apart, falling toward the roaring flames below.
"If I had more time, I'd have dropped you in the Mariana Trench," Ron said, his voice flat. "Consider this an appetizer."
Shaw's roar shook the night. "ROOON!"
Pop!
Ron vanished, reappearing at the base. Darwin was dragging himself from the crater, his head still steel, alive by sheer mutation. "Where is he?" he coughed, blood trickling from his mouth.
"Suburbs," Ron said, his tone clipped, his eyes glinting with cruel anticipation. Outside, Alex and Angel clashed, plasma blades meeting acid spit. Ron teleported above her, claws descending. She turned—too slow. Blood sprayed, her body collapsing to the dirt, wings twitching once before stilling.
Ron landed lightly, wiping the gore from his claws. His Template System flickered:
Ability Points: 78,000.
Templates Recorded: Mutant Black King — Cost: 120,000 | Homelander's Physique (Ryan's teenage state) - Cost: 300,000.
A massive haul, but still short of Shaw's power.
"No matter," he murmured, his voice low, predatory. "Round two's coming." He turned, his eyes burning with ambition, ready to rewrite the X-Men world in his image.