Chapter 8

Arcade's laughter crackled through the speakers, filling the room. "HAHAHA! Alright, X-Men! How about some more friends to play with?" His voice boomed, and from the shadows, robotic clones of Marvel heroes and villains powered up, their eyes glowing menacingly. Cable, Bishop, Titanium Man, Whiplash, and countless others.

The False Bishop raised his laser rifle, aiming squarely at Havok. Havok barely dodged, feeling the searing heat as the beam singed his side. He landed hard, clutching his burned chest, each breath a painful rasp. Around him, the chaos raged: Psylocke was locked in a fierce duel with a false Silver Samurai, Rockslide clashed brutally with Titanium Man, Sunspot struggled to hold off the faux Cable, and Iceman unleashed icy blasts at a swarm of Multiple Man duplicates.

"Havok!" Bobby's voice cut through the clamor. "You've got to find a way out of here! We'll hold them off!"

Havok hesitated, glancing back. "I can't leave you—"

"Do it! If we're going to get out of this, we need backup!" Iceman shouted, hurling a barrage of ice spikes at the encroaching bots. "Now go!"

Torn, Havok nodded, casting one last look at his team before sprinting through a side door, leaving the others behind to fight.

He weaved through the maze-like corridors, Arcade's smug grin plastered across flickering screens along the walls. Each twist and turn amplified his disorientation, and just as he turned a corner, a shadow lurched out of the darkness, blocking his path.

Havok halted, eyes widening at the sight before him. A figure clad in black, her face obscured by a mask and helmet, stood ready. Metallic claws glinted from her hands.

"Get out of my way!" Havok shouted, his voice edged with desperation. She didn't respond—only leapt toward him, claws slashing with lethal precision.

Havok dodged back, firing a quick energy blast. But she was fast, flipping away with an agility that felt feral. Whoever she was, she wasn't just another bot—she was a predator.

"I don't have time for this!" Havok growled, firing another charged blast. She advanced again, sidestepping his attacks with frightening speed, her claws grazing his cheek and drawing blood. The sting brought Havok to his breaking point, his chest heating as his energy charged to full capacity. He unleashed a massive surge of power, the explosion of energy engulfing her and tearing through the walls, leaving cracks that spread like a spiderweb.

In the aftermath, silence reigned. When he looked up, she was gone, the wall blown open with sparking wires and smoke filling the air. Taking his chance, Havok stumbled through the opening, escaping into the night air.

He staggered into the chilly darkness, each step agony as he clutched his bleeding side. The cold night air was a sharp reminder of his injuries, forcing him to stay focused as he put distance between himself and Murderworld.

Back in the Control Room

"Damn it! He escaped!" Arcade's fist pounded the console as he looked toward his mysterious fighter. "Well, at least I—er, we—have the other four mutants," he muttered, casting a gleeful glance at the barely conscious X-Men. "They'll be more than enough for your 'owners,' won't they?"

The figure's fist clenched almost like she is ready to kill Arcade but anable to.

Meanwhile, Outside

Havok stumbled through a nearby town, his gaze landing on an old jacket discarded on the sidewalk. He picked it up, draping it over his suit and removing his mask to look less conspicuous. Ahead, a neon sign flickered: a bar. With grim determination, he staggered toward it, gritting his teeth against the pain with each step.

The bell above the door jingled as he entered, and he squinted against the dim light. Sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, was a figure dressed in a brown leather jacket with yellow stripes on the sleeves, a yellow-and-blue plaid shirt beneath it, jeans, cowboy boots, a silver x on his belt and a dark eyepatch. Havok's eyes widened as he noticed the unmistakable pointed hair.

Gathering his courage, he took a seat next to him. The bartender approached, eyeing Havok skeptically. "You look kinda young," she remarked.

Havok swallowed, his voice weak. "I'm not here for a drink… I just… I need help."

The man beside him took another swig before speaking in a gruff tone. "You look like hell, kid. What's your story?"

"Well… are you Logan?" Havok asked, trying to hide the desperation in his voice.

"Maybe," Logan replied, his voice layered with sarcasm. "I might not be the Logan you're looking for."

"Well, the thing is… I'm with Xavier's school," Havok whispered, glancing around.

"Oh, really?" Logan raised an eyebrow, looking completely unimpressed. "And why should I care?"

Havok struggled for words, desperation clear in his face. "Listen, my team's in danger—this psycho named Arcade captured them. I just need help… at least a ride to Xavier's."

Logan took another shot, then leaned in close, his voice a harsh growl. "How about this? Go fuck yourself."

Before Havok could react, the bar window shattered with an explosive crash, sending shards of glass everywhere. Through the dust and chaos, the mysterious, clawed figure from before stood poised for battle, claws extended and gleaming in the dim bar light.

Logan's eyes narrowed as he saw the mysterious fighter step into the bar, her claws glinting under the dim lights. He took a long, slow breath, then cracked his knuckles, rolling his neck like he was warming up for a brawl. "Hmph. You got claws, huh?" His own adamantium claws shot out with a metallic snikt. "I've been starvin' for a challenge. Let's go, bub!"

With a speed that surprised even him, she darted forward, swiping low. Logan blocked, their claws clashing in a sharp ring that echoed through the room. The mysterious fighter twisted and lashed out, and Logan noticed she had two claws instead of his usual three. He smirked.

"Two claws? Heh. I thought you'd at least match me," he taunted, stepping into another strike. But before he could react, she twisted mid-air, her foot slicing out with a third, smaller claw that left a fresh line across his cheek.

Logan stumbled back, gritting his teeth against the pain as he reached up to wipe away the blood. "Two claws on each and and one on each foot, too? You're full'a surprises. But. how do you have claws? That can't be a natural mutation." Logan asks as he blocks another one of her slashes.

Havok watched from the sidelines, clutching his side and wincing with every swing. He could barely keep up with their speed, but he saw Logan pause, looking into the stranger's face.

"Wait. You… are you part of Weapon X?" Logan's voice held a tone that was half recognition, half disbelief. The woman didn't answer, only lunged at him with renewed fury. Logan dodged, his counterpunch catching the edge of her helmet, cracking it down the middle. She staggered back, her hands reaching instinctively to cover her face, but it was too late.

The helmet shattered, revealing her eyes—burning with anger, fear, and, somewhere deep down, sadness. Logan's expression softened, just for a second. "Kid…"

But before he could say anything more, she was gone, leaping back through the shattered window and vanishing into the night.

He turned to Havok, still clutching his side, his face starting to look pale from blood loss. "That kid. Did she fallow you?"

Havok gave a weak nod. "She… she was in Murderworld too. Arcade must have her trapped there."

Logan shook his head. "Arcade's messin' with the wrong kinda people this time." He reached down, helping Havok to his feet. "Alright, kid. Let's get you patched up."

A Short While Later

Logan parked his beat-up mini RV outside the bar, grumbling as he helped Havok into the passenger seat. "Been a while since I drove this thing," he muttered. "Just hang tight."

Havok tried to stifle a laugh but ended up wincing in pain. "The famous Wolverine… driving me... This is so cool..."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it," Logan replied with a smirk as he turned the ignition. "Let's get you back to the mansion. Looks like we got a lot more to talk about with Xavier."

As they drove into the night, Havok glanced back at the bar, replaying the fight in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that, despite her fury, the mysterious woman had held back.

Back at the X Mansion. Cyclops and many other mutants looked worried.

"Where is Alex and the others? Even Xavior can't find them with Ceribro." Cyclops says pacing back and forth.

"We should do recon and maybe we can find them." Collousus suggests.

However just as they discuss it, the RV pulls up and the X Men imidiantly recognize Logan, but also he is carrying Havok.

"Medical room! Now!" Logan demands as Nightcrawler teleports over, grabbing him and teleporting to get him to a medical bay quickly!

The X Men look at Wolverine in shock with him saying "It's been awhile..guys...We have a lot to discuss."

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Yep it's back! And I will try to keep at it with this story.