Author's Note:
Yeah, so it's been awhile and several X-movies later. Since I had established this timeline based on X-Men Origins: Wolverine and since X-Men: First Class had come out while I had written later chapters, I'm not going to now try to force latest developments into this fic. There are some things that I had planned all along that now perfectly fit. And I might take the prerogative to tie-in one of the later movies (as is briefly evident at the end of this chapter) but if I do, it will because it's organic and not just because I liked a plot or there was a need for a character to appear. Likewise, if something no longer fits (i.e. the original Brotherhood mutants from First Class or Moira MacTaggert's involvement in subsequent X-films), well, this fic is an "alternate" alternate timeline. Hope this update is worth the wait!

Chapter 25

12 Hours After Manhattan – Hudson Valley Region, New York

With the ocular implant test as successful as the auditory one, Dr. MacTaggert had given clearance for the small group to suit up and fly out. While Gambit spent time recovering, Wolverine and the others moved back to the War Room to strategize their next moves.

Looking over the map projected on the wall, he pointed out, "Albany has the right population rate. Their police force should have at least two Sentinels on hand."

"It also creates a wide enough radius for us to retreat without bringing attention to the Institute's location." Iceman added, pacing the short distance between the map and the door.

To say he was not happy with Gambit being the diversion was an understatement. Shadowcat was his best friend and he still thought of Rogue as his girlfriend even though they had discussed the end of their relationship. In his mind, he should be the one on the inside to save the two women most important to him. However, the matter had been closed before he could even bring an objection.

Storm temporarily interrupted his brooding, adding, "Regardless, everyone should be on alert and ready to engage lockdown procedures."

"Agreed." Xavier settled the matter. "Even with fewer X-Men, there are enough of us to both mount an offense and defend the children should the worst occur."

"Alright," Wolverine clapped his hands, rubbing them together as he headed for the door. "Let's get Gumbo and head out."

Since Gambit had been instructed to recover as long as possible, Storm had gathered his tactical gear and equipment before joining the others for the strategy session. Grabbing the neat stack, she headed down the hall to the Med Lab and silently approached the makeshift recovery room. While the Med Lab was a state of the art facility, the X-Men had only two beds and both were in use: one by Colossus and the other by Beast.

The injured X-Men had been stabilized as soon as the team had returned from the failed rescue mission in Manhattan's old subway system. Though their vitals now seemed to be stable, neither man had regained consciousness.

Dr. MacTaggert had given a grim prognosis for Colossus, confirming the worst from Emma's field assessment. Once the spinal lesion healed, he would have at least a year of physical therapy. However, that could be further complicated by the unknown factors of his seemingly permanent organic steel state.

As for Beast, his brain scans indicated minimal damage from the skull fracture. The major concern for the former ambassador was that the Professor had found no trace of Beast's consciousness in his mindscape. While that was not necessarily a problem, it was worrisome since Xavier had been able to find and communicate with comatose patients in the past.

Next to the two X-Men was Gambit's "room", a small alcove where they normally stored the portable MRI. Dr. MacTaggert needed the Hyperfine at Beast's bedside for regular scans, so the space was conveniently free. A sheet draped from the ceiling by pushpins, giving the semblance of privacy.

Poking her head around the fabric, Storm quietly said, "Remy? We're ready."

The Cajun rested on an inclined table, his feet propped up on an extension. He quickly hid a black polycarbonate flask in an unseen pocket of his tactical pants. If she didn't know better, Storm would have sworn he'd only had the one nip. Instead, she knew his tells well enough to recognize when he was in pain and understood that sometimes imbibing in his favorite bourbon was the only method he had to dull the suffering.

With a vitality she knew he didn't feel, he hopped off the table and cavalierly said, "Laissez le bon temps rouler."

His response was clichéd, but appropriate. If nothing else, he could mete out some revenge on the hunks of metal that had captured Rogue. Taking a step forward, a wave of dizziness threw off his balance and he stumbled from the combined effects of the anesthesia and alcohol. Maybe he'd had one too many sips after all.

Storm rushed over to lend a hand. "Are you sure you are ready for this? We can wait a few more hours if needed."

"Non!" Gambit vehemently disagreed. "Rogue don't have de time."

"If you are sure…" She hedged, but he just nodded his head, "I'm sure."

While Storm had faith that Gambit knew his own limits, she couldn't bring herself not to assist him as they walked toward the Blackbird's hangar. Once at the threshold, he kindly but firmly shook off Storm's assistance. If he appeared weak in front of Iceman or Wolverine, they would call the whole thing off until he was in better shape.

Pulling himself together, he confidently strode across the hangar and up the Blackbird's ramp. The X-Men inside were finishing up the pre-flight checks, with Iceman concentrating on the task at hand since he often wasn't assigned them. Wolverine, however, turned to look at Gambit's approach.

"Mes amis," the Cajun said as he smoothly slid into a jumpseat.

The older man raised an eyebrow. No doubt he could smell the alcohol and drugs wafting on the air, but Gambit imperceptibly shook his head. The two men stared each other down before Wolverine nodded and returned back to the Blackbird's controls. They both understood the risks and consequences. If they didn't do this now, the trail would go cold and there would be little opportunity to rescue their friends. Wolverine also trusted that the Cajun wouldn't put Marie's life in danger. His own was an entirely different story.

"You forgot these." Storm dropped Gambit's gear in his lap as she headed up to switch places with Iceman.

"Merci, Stormy," he added with a wince, but she just raised her hand and dismissively shook her head.

With Storm at the helm, Iceman flopped down in the jumpseat across from Gambit. Irritated with the whole situation, he stared at the man he still viewed as a rival. The Cajun was slumped in the seat, his head back, eyes shut. As Iceman stared at him, he imagined how the next hour would play out. If he could just get the Sentinel's attention first, he could be the one on the inside…

"Somethin' I can do y' fo'?" Gambit asked, clearly aware he was being observed even though his eyes were closed.

Taking the opening, Iceman answered the question with a question. "You really think getting captured is going to save Marie, Kitty, and Warren?"

Realizing Rogue's ex wouldn't leave him alone until they hashed this out, Gambit sighed. Cracking his eyes open a tiny slit, he said, "Don't see how breakin' out is any different than breakin' in."

"Yeah, except if you screw this up," Iceman fired back, "there won't be any chance to do it over."

With a speed he had never seen before, Gambit jumped up and forcefully pressed Iceman's shoulders into the seat. The heels of his palms were digging into the sensitive spot below the collarbone, making the younger man wince.

Inches from the other man's face, he vehemently said, "Wake up, garçon. This ain't de Danger Room. We don't get t' hit a reset button and 'do it over'. We mess this up, there's more at stake than just bein' held captive."

Iceman's jaw dropped and he gaped for a second. He hadn't anticipated Gambit's lithe movements. When he finally recovered, he shoved his assailant away.

"You're a real piece of work." Iceman spat, disappointed the other man didn't stumble.

"That's what I been told." Gambit darkly answered, the dim overhead lighting casting shadows across his face. His mutation glowed brightly in his eyes as he towered over the still seated Iceman.

"You boys finished with your pissing contest?" Wolverine threw over his shoulder.

"Ouais," Gambit said, shrugging his trench coat back into place before reclaiming his seat. "We're done here."

"Then sit down, shut up, and strap in." He responded, turning back to finish the checks. "At least pretend you're on the same side for the next few hours."

(X)-(X)-(X)

The flight to Albany was short considering the Blackbird's state of the art technology. Gambit felt like he had barely closed his eyes when he heard Wolverine grunt, "Up and at 'em, Gumbo."

Grabbing his gear, he suited up. Instead of putting on the black leather of the X-uniform Storm had grabbed for him, he opted for his stret clothes and trench coat. He hid his tactical armor under the plain outerwear. In addition to the normal equipment, he also strapped a biomonitor to his chest and stowed a small tracker in his boot.

Now that they we coming in on final approach, he had to work through the pain from the implants and surgery. Disorientation still played havoc with his senses and the dulling effects of the alcohol didn't help the situation, but he shook it all off as the Blackbird came in for a smooth landing.

"Alright, everybody know what they're doing?" Wolverine asked, not waiting for their response before he added. "Good. Breakout."

The plan was a simple distraction. Iceman was supposed to create a thin layer of black ice on the main thoroughfares for a quarter mile radius surrounding the Capitol Building. The hope was that minor crashes would cause a major pileup and prevent normal police and emergency worker dispatches. Then it would be up to Storm to blow out all the top windows in the Corning Tower while simultaneously collecting the broken shards from hurting any civilians. With the distraction outside, Wolverine would terrorize workers inside the Capitol. The high profile senators and congressmen would warrant immediate protection from the city's Sentinel team. All the while, Gambit would be the only X-Man available for capture, providing a secondary distraction to allow Iceman, Storm, and Wolverine to slip away.

The problem was, Xavier's X-Men weren't terrorists. Even if the plan was benign and no one would get hurt, Gambit couldn't risk his friends' lives or reputations just to get the Sentinels' attention, especially not when he could do it all on his own.

Before Iceman could ever start, Gambit unleashed a flurry of lightly charged cards. Their explosive load was nothing more than bright light and loud noise, but it was enough to throw milling citizens into screaming panic.

"Gambit, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Wolverine's voice crackled over the comm.

"Gettin' captured." He said as he threw out another volley, charging lampposts, mailboxes, and trashcans along his path.

"We were supposed to do this as a team." Storm admonished, automatically switching to rescue the startled people.

"We are. Y' play de heroes. Leave de ruckus t' de thief." Gambit answered, the spoken truth hurting a little more than he expected.

He could tell Storm was about to object when Logan broke in and said, "Leave him to it, Storm."

He continued on his task, wreaking havoc as he ran down State Street. Coming up on the historic Capitol building, Gambit drew in a deep breath before plunging forward with his task. A couple harmless explosions would eventually get someone to call in the Sentinels, but he didn't have time to waste. Rogue had been gone for well over twelve hours. If he didn't follow hot on her trail now, all chance of finding her may be lost. He needed something big that would bring the Sentinels down on top of him as soon as they were deployed from their housing unit.

There was a crane nearby working on restoring the hundred year-old building. Quickly climbing the lattice boom, the added height gave him easier access to his target. With a small charge on each end, Gambit broke off a metal rod forming the lattice. Taking aim at the Richardsonian Romanesque towers, he silently prayed there was no one in them to be hurt. Having yet another person's blood on his hands was the last thing he needed.

Like a spear, he flung the charged metal toward the roof of the tower. It had enough explosive force to blow the structure under the red tiles to tiny bits. Unexpectedly, parts of the white granite exterior crumbled to the ground below. Gambit cringed as he watched the stone chunks crash down, thankful that no one was walking under the area at the time.

As expected, sirens started blaring half a mile away. Even with two police precincts and the county sheriff's department so close, scrambling the Sentinels would take another five minutes minimum. Shimmying down the boom, Gambit leapt over the crane cab only to be met with the telltale mechanical voice of the machines he'd been trying to attract.

"Mutant genome targeted. Identity: Unknown. Visual match to multiple terrorist acts. Stop and desist, criminal! You are being charged with multiple counts of vigilantism and terrorism. As required by federal law, your Miranda warning is as follows…" The lead Sentinel spoke, flanked by two others.

"De Sentinels are already here!" Gambit shouted into his commlink, knowing the others would get the message.

Every major city had been allocated only two Sentinels. It was a compromise made when Beast was still ambassador. He maybe couldn't stop the legislation from passing, but he was at least able to successfully argue that a program to detain only criminal mutants would have no need for more than two machines. The appearance of a third Sentinel and their quick arrival meant someone had given the Albany police a heads up. And that in turn could only mean a traitor was still at the Institute.

Instead of surrendering, Gambit decided to make the machines work for his capture. Using his enhanced agility, he launched into a series of leaps and flips over the trio. Charged cards blazed in every direction but were purposely aimed at only the extremities of the machines.

Landing gracefully on his feet, he immediately bounded up onto the closest Sentinel's back. His cards maybe purposely missed their targets, but he wasn't about to go down without taking one with him. Placing both hands on the Sentinel's head, he locked his legs around its torso. As the robot tried to buck him off, he set a kinetic charge to the largest blast he dared without hurting anyone, himself included.

Jumping off, Gambit headed toward the next nearest machine. Instead of hitting the Sentinel head on, he consciously spun off kilter. The calculated wrong angle allowed the Sentinel to swipe him up in the containment chassis. His eyes widened as he watched the steel morph from a large web of flexible tendrils into a small cage once he was fully contained. The enclosed space barely accommodated his hunched form.

"Bon chance, mes amis." It was the key phrase so the rest of the team would know to pull back.

"Be careful, Gambit." Storm's voice rang in his ears.

For all he knew, it was the last friendly voice he'd hear for a long time.

(X)-(X)-(X)

1 Hour Later – Location Unknown

Gambit wasn't sure how far they'd travelled. As soon as the Sentinel moved away from the city center, their speed increased well beyond one hundred miles per hour. In a matter of minutes, they arrived at a small building painted matte black and without windows. A heavy metal door slid aside at their approach before quickly sliding back in place once they were through.

With the door closed, Gambit was plunged into pitch darkness. At first, his eyes played tricks on him as he imagined flickers of light in his peripheral vision. Under normal circumstances, his mutation would have adapted by now. While he couldn't see through normal light receptors, he could sense the potential energy of chargeable items. However, the Sentinel's containment chassis included some kind of power dampener. He couldn't even feel the tingle of his mutation.

Only a few seconds passed before the Sentinel shifted its body. Instead of adjusting to contain a full grown man like it had when it captured him, the extremities locked into place against the chassis and created a bullet like shape. The chassis seemed to close in as well, forcing Gambit into a crouched position. While he was physically fit and could endure more extreme conditions than most, he could feel a light burn in his quads. If he had to hold the squat for a long period of time, muscle fatigue would set in and further weaken him in the Sentinel's captivity. It was a clever tactic.

The tug of electromagnets activating and repelling each other refocused his senses to the mechanics directly in front of them. He'd only encountered a maglev rail system a few times before considering the systems were highly technical and very costly, but the machinery had a very distinctive noise. Maneuvering into place, the Sentinel horizontally rotated until Gambit shifted onto his back. He had to bend his knees, pinning his legs against his torso. At least he didn't have to crouch the entire way.

A whirring noise gradually rose in pitch before they shot down a straight and narrow tube. The lack of lights and secrecy of the maglev meant they had to be underground, which confirmed Multiple Man's implication that the Sentinels were a government black ops program. One face was presented to the public as a benefit to society, while another was clearly interested in more than simple detainment of criminal mutants.

With no way to tell time, distance, or space, Gambit lost track of any possible location. Since he had no clue where they were or where they were going, he also had no idea how much longer the little joyride would take. Queasiness churned his stomach, a combination of the sensory depravation, the anesthesia Dr. MacTaggert had used on him earlier, and the alcohol that had since soured in his gut. Fighting down the nausea, he concentrated on calming his mind and body, though not to the point of becoming complacent.

'This is no different than any other job.' He thought, remembering novice heists when he was a nervous pup tripping over his own feet.

The techniques he'd learned over the years helped prepare him for whatever lay ahead, but he could imagine how other mutants would be panicked by this point. No light, no sound aside from the maglev, no way to shout for help (not that any would come if one could be heard). Indeed, this second phase of capture was truly terrifying.

Just as he was settling in for the ride, a bright white light flooded the tunnel. Gambit squeezed his eyes shut, but the damage was already done. His already inflamed eyes burned with the intensity as fat tears streaked down his temples and into his hair. The momentum on the maglev slowed to a crawl, and in reverse, the Sentinel rose from its prone position and rearranged itself into the humanoid form. Disoriented from all the abuse on his body, Gambit scrambled to a crouched position inside the containment chassis. As his eyes finally adjusted to the well-lit space, he could see several other Sentinels from additional tubes step out onto a platform.

Across from him, a pale-green skinned woman with hair made of delicate branches covered in tiny leaves reached toward him. "Help me! Please!" She shouted, banging on her organic metal prison.

'There's no help fo' us here, fille.' Gambit thought.

The Sentinels moved in formation toward a giant, multi-screen display that took up the entire wall in front of them. On each of the smaller monitors was the 3D rotating headshot of a mutant along with either their names or known alias. A few had only a number designation. Most were marked in bold, black letters FUGITIVE. Several others had red labels scrawled diagonally across the faces. The ones with CONTAINED still cycled in full color, while the ones with NEUTRALIZED were black and white autopsy photos. Those were slightly wider angles, with just a glimpse of the upper torso and a tell-tale Y-incision. It was yet another means of psychological torture: depictions of fellow mutants, some revered as heroes, beaten down with no hope of rescue.

Gambit frantically searched each screen, looking for faces he knew. Time was running short as the Sentinels lined up and marched toward an inclined motorized ramp. He pressed his body against the containment chassis, straining for a better look.

Angel – CONTAINED

Beast – FUGITIVE

Callisto - NEUTRALIZED

Cyclops – CONTAINED

Havoc – NEUTRALIZED

Iceman – FUGITIVE

Psylocke – NEUTRALIZED

Pyro – CONTAINED

Shadowcat – CONTAINED

Storm – FUGITIVE

Toad - NEUTRALIZED

Weapon X – FUGITIVE

As the wall quickly disappeared from view, he twisted his body in a panic to find Rogue. There was a blonde woman labeled MUTANT #4351 - CONTAINED and a familiar dark-headed man with piercing blue eyes and a designation he couldn't read.

'Jake!' Gambit thought, afraid the picture was one of an old friend.

He tried to catch another glimpse of that monitor, but it was already out of view. Returning to his search, he desperately scanned the remaining profiles. At the last possible second, his eyes locked on MUTANT #9602 – CONTAINED. While the red label marred her profile, there was no mistaking Rogue's unique alabaster and brunette tresses. He breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed back against the containment chassis.

"I hope y' got all that." He said, praying that the implants were still sending signals back to the X-Men.

Refocusing his attention to the Sentinel's forward march, Gambit watched as the first machine in front of him paused in a large, squared entryway. A green laser scanned the mutant inside, running vertically over the body before rotating horizontally to scan again.

There was a pause as the Sentinel received its instructions. Using yet another psychological tactic to demoralize those captured, the machine's electronic voice boomed a final verdict.

"Genome mapping complete. Sequence: abnormal. Genetic count: 21,185. Mutation classification: 1. Major chromosomal aberrations: 3q21.5 and Xpter. Manifestations: chlorophylloid glutamate and protein filament organum. Specimen status: compulsory. Designation: contain."

"No! No, wait!" It was the female who had cried out for Gambit's help when they first arrived. "What does that mean? Please, let me go home!"

A blinding flash lit the space before winking out of existence as quickly as it appeared. There was a torturous cry and then silence, followed by the Sentinel moving forward and to the right. The next Sentinel paused and the process repeated.

"Genome mapping complete. Sequence: abnormal. Genetic count: 25,372. Mutation classification: 3. Major chromosomal aberrations: 1q7.2, 8pcen, and 22q22.1. Manifestations: molecular phasing. Specimen status: indexed. Designation: neutralize."

The light flashed, another cry, but this time the Sentinel moved to the left.

Gambit straightened as best he could in the confined space. His back went rigid when his Sentinel stepped into the frame. Not quite sure what to expect, he took a deep breath and braced himself for some new hellish pain. Two years in Stryker's facility had taught him the depraved depths of homo sapiens' imagination for suffering. A charge indicator flared to life, causing his body to tense right before the scanning laser made its pass.

"Genome mapping complete. Sequence: abnormal. Genetic count: 32,143. Mutation classification: 4. Major chromosomal aberrations: 1p5.4, 1pcen, 1q7.2, 1q16.4, 6pter, 6q22.3, 13p8.7, and 22q18.1. Manifestations: molecular acceleration, dissipation, disruption, and enhancement; accelerated regeneration and enhanced conditioning; neuroelectrical interference; subliminal psionic compulsion. Specimen status: imperative. Designation: extraction."

'Putain!' The thought barely crossed Gambit's mind, his lips just starting to form on the 'p', when the electroshock flared.

The design of the Sentinel's body only served to perfectly distribute the pulse. High pitched squealing along with an arc of electricity conducted through his corneas. Gambit doubled over in pain, but the initial agonies were quickly forgotten as his muscles contracted and dizziness confused him. It became difficult to breath as pain radiated from his chest to his jaw and down his arms. Blood trickled from his burst eardrums, leaving him deaf to all noises save for the constant ringing. Bright floaters flared in his vision before everything went dark, accompanied by a gritty sensation that made his eyes water and his lids squeeze shut. His body felt weak all over, fatigued as if he'd run a marathon, and intense nausea soon had him vomiting the few contents of his stomach. As his damaged eyes rolled back, his battered body fell limp against the Sentinel's containment chassis.

His last conscious thought as he lay dying was, "Je désolé, mamour. Je t'ai raté."

Reading the crash in his vitals, the Sentinel rushed to action. "Asystolic cardiac arrest rhythm detected in Mutant #10005. Immediate cardiopulmonary resuscitation required. Diverting to critical care unit."

As the Sentinel deftly maneuvered down the hall, it made a second call via its connection to the facility's intercom. "Dr. Essex, attendance required in CCU 4."

In a separate unit, a blond woman struggled against metallic tentacles firmly strapping her to an examination table. Her voice had been muted by a device in the corner that pulsed with a sharp multicolored light. When the woman had first been wheeled into the room, she'd only caught a quick glimpse of the tall Acryliplex tube. As she was prepared by invisible forces for an unknown procedure, the shape floating in the thick liquid became distinguishable enough for her gut to roil. A lump of flesh with no discernible extremities or facial features was the source of the strobing light. In fact, slightly enlarged ears were the only thing remotely human about the creature.

From the shadows, an imposing figure loomed into view. A pair of sinister eyes glowed crimson in the darkness. "My dear Captain, it appears you will retain your talents for the time being. Do not fret, though. I shall return as soon as feasible, and then that wonderful hybrid DNA of yours will make an extraordinary specimen in my collection."

(X)-(X)-(X)

The small group sitting in the War Room watched as Gambit's feed scrambled into noisy static before going dark.

"Were you able to get a trace, Sage?" Xavier asked, his eyes never leaving the black screen.

Magneto, Wolverine, Storm, and Iceman waited for her response. The time between Gambit's capture and his arrival at the sorting facility was more than enough for the last three to travel back to the Institute and watch the live stream. Nearby, Dr. MacTaggert punched various settings on her tablet's touchscreen.

"The moment the Sentinel went into the black building, we lost the tracking signal." She regretfully reported. "However, I am cross-referencing the building's location with permits, old subway maps, and project sites Multiple Man was able to provide. Combined with the visuals and audio Gambit sent, I should be able to identify the location of that particular sorting facility."

Finally turning away from the screen, Xavier's gaze locked with hers. "Keep us posted on your progress. Wolverine, Storm, prepare your teams for immediate departure once Sage has coordinates."

"Dr. MacTaggert?" Storm interrupted before the Professor could dismiss the group. "Is Remy…"

The weather goddess hoped the doctor would offer reassurances. Instead, Dr. MacTaggert continued to focus on her screen, punching a few more buttons before delivering her assessment.

"The feed we had on his vitals was interrupted along with the location tracer. I don't have a complete picture, but the earlier readings were already showing infection and breakdown of musculoskeletal tissue. By the time the feed cut out, he was exhibiting the early onset of rhabdomyolysis from elevated levels of creatine kinase and myoglobin." She stated as her eyes continued to dart over the numbers.

"I'm sorry, but rhabdo- what?" Iceman asked.

"Rhabdomyolysis," Magneto repeated, as if he was as qualified in the medical field as the doctor, "occurs when muscle tissue dies, as is often the case when alcohol is combined with anesthetic toxicity."

His stare bored into Dr. MacTaggert's before flicking over to Storm. Though she didn't know it at the time, Magneto had also seen Gambit drinking from the flask when he was supposed to be recovering.

Instead of focusing on Magneto's accusation, Iceman was more suspicious of his overall answer. "How do you know all that?"

"As the good doctor described, rhabdomyolysis produces myoglobin, which is a protein that stores excess iron." The Master of Magnetism supplied.

"Figures." Wolverine just shook his head in disgust. Of course the mutant who could manipulate ferrous metal would know about iron levels in the bloodstream.

"But what does that mean?" Storm pushed, unwilling to stir up anymore bad blood.

"The prognosis is not good. He needs emergency intervention." Dr. MacTaggert regretfully confirmed. She left unsaid that the likelihood of appropriate medical care was little to none.

Tears filled Storm's eyes, but she refused to give in to her grieve in front of so many others. She would wait until the Professor dismissed them before letting the skies open with torrential rain. A comforting hand squeezed her shoulder and she looked over before leaning into Wolverine's embrace.

"There is nothing further we can do until Sage has coordinates for us." Xavier commanded their attention. "We all need to recharge while we can. Once we know what we're up against, we very well may be rescuing five of our own."

"Six." Magneto corrected. When the rest of the group gave him a blank stare, he elaborated, "Pyro was once one of your fold, Charles, before becoming one of mine. We will not leave him behind while we are in a position to liberate him."

The Professor locked eyes with his longtime friend before confirming, "Six. As well as any others who may be in need of our help. Now let's try to get some rest."

(X)

Je désolé, mamour. Je t'ai raté. – I'm sorry, my love. I failed you.

.

End Notes

#1

For anyone keeping track, Mutate 9602 was Rogue's prisoner designation on Genosha in Uncanny X-Men Vol. 1 #236. Gambit's 10005 is the Marvel reality designation for X-Men Origins: Wolverine. As for Mutant #4531, y'all will have to wait if you haven't figured it out already!

#2

When examining mutations, geneticists often identify an increase in the number of genes for a species' expected sequence. The increase is attributed to some DNA strands mutating into "starter sequences" that then create new proteins serving different functions, like an increased sense of smell or more oxygen storage in the blood. The homo sapien genome contains 20,000 genes.

If homo superior truly is more evolved because of mutated genes, their genome should contain more than 20,000 genes. Furthermore, if a "Class 1" or "Alpha" level mutant has only a small deviation from the homo sapien genome, they may have 21,000 genes with mutated DNA starter sequences that don't really have a useful purpose; whereas a "Class 4" or "Omega" level mutant may have 40,000 genes with mutated DNA starter sequences that manifest as the powerful, diverse abilities we expect from mutants like Storm, Iceman, or Magneto. Obviously, the exactness of both the number of genes and the class levels are generalized for this chapter since 1) Marvel-like mutants don't actually exist (that we know of), and 2) Marvel has yet to publish a real classification chart for either comic- or movie-verse mutant levels.

All the strange numbers like 1p5.4 and Xpter are gene location designations on DNA strands. Those are real genes that may or may not have real micro-mutations associated with them. My research was not that in depth, so apologies to any geneticists for the random sampling.