Marvel: Viral
Chapter 16: The Dream and The Lie
…
The holding facility was deep underground, carved into a reinforced black site that very few people even knew existed. It was a SHIELD-controlled facility, hidden beneath what was once an abandoned mutant sanctuary, one of many locations meant to protect their kind in the old days, before Krakoa's fall from grace.
Now, it was a prison.
A fitting irony.
Professor Charles Xavier, former leader of mutantkind, now just another inmate.
Apex had left his mark, Xavier's once-proud stature was now diminished, his legs taken, his powers neutered, his influence stripped away like flesh from bone. His name had become a warning, his reputation a cautionary tale whispered among former allies and betrayed followers alike.
Mutants and SHIELD alike had agreed on one thing, Xavier could no longer be trusted.
He had been placed here for his own good… and for the good of everyone else.
And yet, despite the high security, despite the layers of technological and psychic shielding around him… she had made her way inside.
Mother Righteous.
A smirk curled at the corner of her lips as she strode through the facility in a carefully crafted disguise, her golden robes hidden beneath a simple white coat, her presence unnoticed, unseen, unquestioned.
Oh, she was having such fun.
With the mutants fractured, with the trust between them shattered, with Xavier reduced to nothing but a footnote in his own failed dream, she had so many delightful opportunities to play with.
She stepped into the cold chamber where Xavier sat in his wheelchair, his once-commanding posture now hunched, his eyes shadowed with defeat and exhaustion.
And yet, he knew.
The moment she entered, he felt her presence.
Xavier slowly looked up, his once-brilliant mind now dulled by psychic dampeners placed around the room. "You," he muttered, his voice hoarse.
Mother Righteous smiled sweetly, stepping closer, her hands clasped before her as if she were nothing more than a kind stranger paying a visit to an old friend.
"Ah, Charles…" she sighed, tilting her head. "Look at ye now, sittin' there, so small, so… forgotten. Ye who once held an entire nation in yer hands."
Xavier's expression twisted. "I have nothing to say to you."
She laughed, light and airy, as if he had just told a jolly good joke.
"Oh, dear Charles. But I have so much to say to ye."
Xavier's hands curled into fists. "Why are you here?"
Mother Righteous leaned in, lowering her voice just enough to tickle his paranoia.
"To remind ye, love." Her lips curled into something sickeningly sweet. "That no matter how much ye think ye've lost… there's always more to take."
Xavier swallowed, his grip tightening on the arms of his wheelchair. "I've already lost everything."
Mother Righteous gave a mocking pout. "Oh, now that's where you're wrong, my dear. Ye see… we've cloned you a few times now, actually."
The blood drained from Xavier's face.
His breath hitched, his pupils dilating as horror set in.
Mother Righteous grinned, drinking it all in like the finest wine.
"Ohhh, aye. Ye thought ye were special, Charles? Thought they locked ye away and forgot ye?" She leaned in even closer, whispering like a devil in his ear. "But we didn't forget. We've been having so much fun with the copies we've made of ye."
Xavier's throat went dry.
He wanted to call her a liar, but…
He knew.
He knew she wasn't lying.
Because if Sinister had done it, if Orchis had done it, if Apex had broken down the very fabric of genetics to reshape the world in his image, then what stopped them from copying him?
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Mother Righteous sighed, standing back to admire the broken man before her.
"Ye were a fool, Charles. Ye wanted so badly to shape mutantkind in yer image. But yer dream, it's dust now. And yet, ye still sit here, waitin' for somethin' to change." She shook her head. "Ye were never in control. Not of yer people. Not of yer resurrection. And certainly not of yerself."
Xavier's hands trembled slightly. He hated that she was right.
Mother Righteous took a graceful step backward, as if her work here was done.
"Oh, don't ye worry. I'll be back soon," she said, her voice light, playful, dripping with cruelty. "Wouldn't want ye feelin' lonely in yer little cage, now, would we?"
And with that, she turned and left, humming softly to herself as she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Charles Xavier alone in his prison of failures.
And for the first time in his long, long life, he truly felt powerless
…
Rachel Summers lay on the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling as the soft hum of the ultrasound machine filled the room. Just two weeks ago, she had been in this exact position, watching David's form take shape on the monitor. And now… here she was again.
It still felt surreal.
Peter sat beside her, one hand resting lightly on hers, the other supporting David as the toddler bounced lightly on his lap. David was watching everything, wide-eyed and curious, his small fingers occasionally twitching with excited anticipation as the doctors ran the scan.
The cool gel against Rachel's stomach wasn't unfamiliar now, and she took a steadying breath as the probe glided over her skin. The screen flickered, grainy at first, then sharper—revealing the life growing inside her.
Rachel swallowed, her heart skipping as she saw it—the mass of writhing tendrils, shifting and twisting as it slowly took form.
Not red and black like Peter.
Not a firey orange and black like herself.
Not white and black like David.
This one…
Blue and black.
Peter tilted his head slightly, observing the image with a careful, unreadable expression. His tendrils curled and flicked subtly, mirroring his deep thought.
David, still bouncing slightly on his father's lap, giggled softly, reaching out toward the screen as if he could touch the forming life inside. "Sister?" he asked, voice light but clear.
Rachel blinked, glancing at Peter, then at the doctors.
"…We think it's a girl," one of them said, cautiously. "But we can't say for sure yet."
The viral mass shifted on the screen, the formless shape subtly stretching, almost trying to resemble something more human.
Rachel exhaled, her fingers tightening around Peter's hand. "It's happening all over again."
Peter gave her a small, knowing smile, his red-black eyes soft with understanding. "Yeah," he murmured. "But this time… we know what to expect."
David clapped his hands lightly, still watching the screen, fascinated.
Rachel let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "One kid two weeks ago… and now we're about to have another."
Peter just smirked, his voice playful but warm. "At this rate, we're gonna need a bigger apartment."
…
Shathra stirred within the depths of the Loom of the Great Web, her senses twitching as a disturbance rippled across the threads of fate. She had felt many disturbances before, Spider-Totems resisting their place in the grand tapestry, anomalies who defied the natural order. But this?
Her eight glistening eyes narrowed as she extended her consciousness, her essence threading through the web, sifting through the strands, following the discordant note that had infected the Song of Spiders. Her clawed fingers danced over a shimmering golden strand, and as soon as she touched it.
Wrong. This is wrong.
She recoiled slightly as images flooded her mind. A figure wrapped in red and black, but not the silken webs of her prey. No, this was something deeper. Something more primordial. Something that should not be.
She saw it, him, in flashes of memories that did not belong to her.
A man, a boy, a Spider-Totem, but not one she had ever touched, not one that should exist. A non-canon event.
And yet, he was here.
She watched as he consumed, tendrils shifting, warping, growing, devouring. He had shed his flesh, his bones, his mortality, only to become something other. The Web of Life and Destiny tried to expel him, tried to erase his existence from its design, but each time, the paradox simply... corrected itself. As if his very presence in reality was a self-sustaining infection.
Her mandibles clicked in unease.
She dug deeper. More images, more knowledge, more contradictions.
Aunt May's apartment, a missile, obliterated in a burst of fire and debris. An explosion meant to erase him. Instead, it only solidified him.
The Apex creature turned his gaze upon those who had wronged him, and the world had quaked beneath his wrath.
Krakoa. Fallen.
Wayeb. Defiled.
The Apex entity had overpowered a god. A god. Reduced it to a gurgling mess, its divinity ripped away like so much chaff in the wind.
Shathra's mandibles clenched.
He was not a Totem. He was something else. A pestilence. A virus that had twisted the Spider archetype into something abominable.
And he had not just infected himself.
Rachel Summers, Daughter of Jean Grey, a Phoenix heir, a mutant of terrifying potential, now one of his own. Bound to him, wrapped in viral tendrils, reshaped into something neither human, mutant, nor Spider.
And worse, so much worse!
She had spawned with him.
A new entity.
A hybrid.
A child.
Shathra's legs twitched as she recoiled from the vision, a deep chittering sound rising from her throat. Her horror deepened as she stretched further, feeling beyond the current moment.
It was happening again.
Rachel Summers was with child once more. Another one.
Another apex predator. Another abomination growing within a mutant womb, gestating like an infection set to bloom.
Shathra let out a low, guttural hiss, her limbs curling inward in revulsion.
This, this, was why the Web of Life had screamed.
This was why the strands had shaken under a force even she had not foreseen.
The Apex entity was contaminating the web.
The infection was spreading.
And if it was not stopped, if it was not purged from the Loom, from the threads that bound reality together, then the great balance of Spider-Totems across all of existence would become corrupted beyond repair.
This could not stand.
She had to act. Now.
Her eyes gleamed as her mind reached out, whispering into the unseen strands of fate. There were Totems, powerful ones, who would come when called. Some would not even realize what they were fighting against. Some would not care. But they would answer the call, nonetheless.
And if the Apex Totem was truly as monstrous as these visions foretold…
Then he would die screaming in her webs!
…
Peter sat by Rachel's bedside, his fingers idly brushing through her hair as she rested against the pillows. The rhythmic beeping of the hospital monitors provided a steady backdrop to the soft chatter in the room. His viral grey housecat form was curled up at her side, ears flicking occasionally as it processed countless streams of data from the network of crows stationed across the city.
At the foot of the bed, the Viral K9 stood on guard, its sleek black-and-red form sitting perfectly still, except for the occasional flick of its tail. Even at rest, it was scanning, analyzing, waiting.
Aunt May sat in the chair beside him, a gentle smile on her face as she reached out, stroking Rachel's hand. "You're looking well, dear," she said warmly, though her sharp eyes never missed a detail. She was still adjusting to everything, to Peter's evolution, to his strange extensions, and to the sheer vastness of what he had become. But through it all, she still saw him.
Rachel hummed in response, her free hand reaching for the small dish Peter had prepared for her—a plate of candied locusts glazed in honey. Her cravings had become more… unique since she had changed. And while it had taken some getting used to, Peter had no qualms about accommodating her every need. She popped one into her mouth and let out a satisfied sigh, leaning further into his warmth.
Jubilee, Dazzler, and Pixie stood near the window, occasionally glancing at the massive flock of crows perched on the hospital rooftop across the street.
"Okay," Jubilee finally said, watching as a pair of crows seemed to be talking to each other in eerie synchronization. "I know we know what Apex can do. But watching those birds outside literally having conversations? That's, man, I dunno, that's some creepy hive-mind horror movie level stuff."
Dazzler gave a low whistle, arms folded. "Yeah. It's impressive. But also, kinda unsettling."
Pixie tilted her head, watching the synchronized movements of the crows outside. "It's not random," she murmured. "It's like… patterns. They're placed there. It's not just surveillance. It's a system."
Peter, without missing a beat, spoke up, his voice calm despite holding at least seven different conversations in different locations through his extensions.
"It is a system," he said simply, one hand still absentmindedly brushing Rachel's hair while the other handed her another locust. "They're stationed in specific locations based on their line of sight, acoustic range, and cellular positioning to optimize the Bio-Echo-Location network. That way, I don't have to rely solely on my own range, I can extend it through them."
Jubilee gave a slow blink. "So… you are technically everywhere."
Peter nodded. "Everywhere that matters. At least, everywhere within the grid I've built."
Rachel smirked slightly, popping another locust into her mouth. "He's in about seven different meetings right now. Four of his crows are in boardrooms overseeing construction, three more are at refugee settlement centers helping displaced people from Paul's world adjust."
Dazzler let out a huff, shaking her head. "That's nuts."
Aunt May chuckled softly, patting Rachel's arm. "Oh, trust me, dear. If you think that's impressive, you should've seen how many things he was doing when he was just juggling Spider-Man and college. He's always been like this."
Pixie tapped the glass lightly as she watched the crows shift and murmur to each other. "I can't even wrap my head around this. Like, how do you manage all this? Doesn't it get overwhelming?"
Peter exhaled, his crimson eyes flickering slightly. "It would. If I was still human in the way that I used to be. But I'm not."
He gestured vaguely, his tendrils shifting slightly. "Every strand of my DNA is like a quantum computer. My processing speed doesn't slow down. The more data I absorb, the more efficiently I function. My mind doesn't get overwhelmed, it just adapts."
Pixie looked at him for a long moment before murmuring, "That's… kind of scary."
Rachel let out a quiet giggle, reaching up to touch his cheek. "He's scary, sure. But he's also my overprotective dork."
Peter's expression softened slightly, and he leaned down to press a light kiss against her forehead.
Jubilee shook her head. "Man, I don't know how you two keep up with each other."
Rachel smirked. "We don't." She gestured at the viral housecat curled up beside her. "He does."
Dazzler let out a short laugh. "Okay, yeah, that tracks."
The Viral K9 at the foot of the bed suddenly let out a soft chuff, tilting its head as if listening to something beyond their hearing.
Peter's expression shifted slightly. His awareness flickered, expanding outward as he processed the incoming data.
A ripple.
A shift in the Web of Life.
Something, someone, had taken notice.
His tendrils flexed, but outwardly, he remained calm.
Aunt May noticed the shift in his demeanor, though, and reached over, resting a hand on his. "Peter?"
He blinked, refocusing on the room, on them.
He squeezed her hand gently.
Peter let out a slow breath, his crimson-red gaze flickering slightly as he processed what had just happened. His mind was still stretching out across the city, across his network, but for the first time, he felt something watching back. Something outside of his reach, beyond his understanding, until he looked closer.
He didn't turn his head, didn't shift, just kept his grip firm on Aunt May's hand as he spoke, his voice quiet, but steady.
"I felt something," he admitted. "Not here. Not anywhere in the city. If I had to guess…" He met Rachel's gaze, his tone serious. "It was on the Web of Life."
That got a reaction.
Jubilee and Pixie exchanged glances. Dazzler's lips pressed into a thin line. Jean's expression turned sharp. Rachel shifted slightly, sitting up straighter, setting aside her snack.
Peter exhaled. "Someone was watching me," he continued, his eyes narrowing. "So I stared back. Through the threads."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, all at once, he felt it snap.
The Web of Life and Destiny trembled.
…
Shathra jerked backward, her limbs twitching unnaturally as the golden strands she had been so delicately weaving shifted, no, corrupted. The connection she had been using to peer into the anomaly, to see Apex for herself, suddenly rippled, turning from its natural silken glow into something… wrong.
Something alive.
Something aware.
Her eight eyes widened as she saw the strands she had been touching begin to blacken, red veins spreading through them, twisting and writhing as if they were infected.
Then, the horror.
One of the silken threads snapped like a tendon, unraveling not into frayed webbing, but into something alive, something moving.
It grabbed her.
Not metaphorically. Not through the Web in an abstract sense.
The thread itself reached out, wrapping around her clawed hand, and it was his tendrils.
Red and black, writhing, pulsing with that same, sickening hunger Apex carried within himself.
Her mandibles clicked in shock as she reeled back violently, her limbs curling inward as the Web of Life lurched in protest, strands of it thrashing on the ground like a living centipede.
He saw me. He touched me.
The realization sent a wave of disgust through her body.
No. No. This wasn't how this worked. She was the predator. The hunter. The one who wove the strands of fate, not the one ensnared by them!
Shathra twisted her arms in panic, hissing violently as she slashed at the corrupted thread, her claws glowing with ethereal power, trying to sever it, trying to cut herself free.
With a final, desperate yank, she tore the connection away, and the infected thread snapped backward, slithering into the webbing like it had never been there at all.
The moment the bond was severed, the Web of Life itself reacted violently. The silken pathways shuddered, strands unraveling and snaking across the ground like panicked insects, scuttling, scurrying, moving away from her.
Shathra's breath was ragged, her limbs twitching from the sheer unnaturalness of what she had just experienced.
She had looked into Apex's domain, into the viral anomaly that defied fate itself.
And he had looked back.
And then, he had reached for her.
The nausea swelled inside her like a sickness, her mind racing.
This wasn't just wrong. This wasn't just unnatural.
He was warping the Web of Life itself.
And she had made a terrible mistake in trying to touch him.
…
Kitty Pryde sat at the long conference table, tapping her fingers against the armrest as the final details of the greenhouse initiative wrapped up. The meeting had been productive, funding had been approved for the expansion of rare rainforest plant life in Apex's protected greenhouses.
It was a practical solution, one that would not only preserve endangered species but also help supply various wildlife sanctuaries and zoos around the world.
Australia, in particular, had requested an increased supply of eucalyptus leaves to sustain its koala habitats, and since Apex's latest rounds of mercenary and assassin bounties had flooded their accounts with even more cash, there was no reason to deny the request.
As the meeting officially adjourned, Kitty stretched her arms, letting out a small sigh of relief before pulling out her phone. She had a few minutes before heading to the next meeting, which gave her just enough time to check in on something she'd been keeping tabs on.
Her clones.
And Emma's.
And Storm's.
They had more or less confirmed that Sinister's influence had been lurking far deeper than they initially thought. The bastard had planted copies of them all over, carrying out his agenda in their names. SHIELD, alongside the remnants of the X-Men, had been tracking them down, but the list was growing instead of shrinking.
Kitty scrolled through her messages, looking for any updates.
There wasn't much, until a new text popped up.
[Flight ready. Nevada confirmed. We have a lead.]
Her breath hitched slightly.
A lead.
One of her clones had been spotted in Nevada.
SHIELD was already mobilizing a team.
And Apex was coming too.
That part wasn't unexpected, Peter had made it clear that he wanted these operations shut down personally. Kitty didn't blame him. This wasn't just about tracking down clones anymore.
This was about stopping whatever game Sinister was still playing.
She let out a slow breath, rising from her seat as she texted back.
[En route. Will be at the airstrip in 30 minutes.]
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, already moving.
It was time to put another of Sinister's twisted games to rest.
…
The air in the facility was sterile, cold, and filled with the hum of machinery that never stopped. Massive tanks of organic fluid lined the walls, filled with partially formed bodies, suspended in a state of reawakening.
This place was never meant to be found.
It was hidden beneath an old army depot, its cloaking technology burying it under layers of electromagnetic scrambling fields, psychic dampeners, and enough countermeasures to keep even SHIELD's best operatives from stumbling onto it by accident.
Inside, Sinister moved through the facility, a pleased smirk curling on his lips as he approached his latest masterpieces, three women, standing before him, their eyes sharp, their rage simmering beneath the surface.
Emma Frost.
Ororo Munroe.
Kitty Pryde.
Or, rather, his versions of them.
They didn't know what they really were.
Just like the clones of Logan before them, they had been given a story—a curated, meticulously crafted narrative designed to stoke their fury, to make them need him.
And it was working beautifully.
"You're telling me," Emma said, her voice cold but controlled, "that Krakoa was burned to the ground, and humanity, Orchis, stood by and let it happen?"
"Let it happen?" Sinister let out a mocking chuckle, stepping forward, his coat billowing slightly as he turned to look at the glowing resurrection pods beside them. "My dear, dear Emma, they didn't just let it happen. They ensured it happened. They infiltrated us. Used Apex, that monstrous viral parasite, as a weapon against our people."
Emma's jaw tightened.
Kitty balled her fists at her sides. "The virus," she spat, her expression twisted with disgust. "The thing that took Parker's body. The thing that's still walking around wearing his face."
"Oh, indeed," Sinister cooed, clasping his hands behind his back. "Parker was weak, easy to corrupt—just another foolish mortal who played with forces far beyond him." He turned toward the row of tanks beside them, where two more bodies were forming, their features slowly taking shape through the murky liquid. "And now, we're forced to correct the mistakes of those who failed us."
Ororo, her silver hair shimmering under the dim facility lighting, narrowed her eyes. "And what of our people? You say they were wiped out—so why are we just standing here? Why aren't we fighting back?"
Sinister's lips curled. He gestured toward the pods beside him. "Oh, my dear Storm… we are. Every day, every hour, our people return. We are restoring what was taken."
Their eyes shifted toward the two resurrection pods at the farthest end of the chamber.
Two figures, slowly taking form.
Scott Summers.
Jean Grey.
The sight made Emma's throat tighten.
Scott's face was partially formed, his eyes closed, his body still rebuilding itself within the fluid. Jean's red hair drifted like silk in the containment pod, her features calm but unfinished.
"They don't know yet," Kitty murmured. "They don't know what Orchis did."
Sinister smiled. "Oh, but they will. And when they do?" He turned toward them, his grin widening. "They'll be angrier than they've ever been."
Emma's nails dug into her palm.
Storm's expression was hard as steel.
Kitty took a slow breath. "Then what do we do next?"
Sinister's smile never faltered.
"Oh, my dear… we reclaim what is rightfully ours."
…
A few hours later…
The facility shook violently, the walls rattling as alarms blared through the corridors. A heavy BOOM reverberated through the underground structure, followed by the screeching sound of metal warping under unimaginable pressure.
Emma, Storm, and Kitty braced themselves, their eyes darting toward Sinister. His expression flickered, just for a moment, with genuine concern, something rare for a man who always seemed to be five steps ahead.
Then, another impact.
The blast doors, made of reinforced vibranium, buckled inward with a deep metallic groan.
And then, they shattered.
Torn apart as if they were nothing more than paper, the thick slabs of vibranium collapsed outward, crashing to the floor as dust and sparks filled the air. The debris settled in a heap of twisted wreckage, leaving behind a gaping hole in the entrance of the cloning chamber.
A figure stepped through the smoke, unrushed, unbothered.
A mass of shifting red and black tendrils pulsed and writhed along his shoulders, flowing like a living shadow around him. His crimson eyes gleamed in the dim emergency lighting, piercing through the smoke like a predator surveying prey.
Apex.
The air grew thick, heavy with something indescribable. The mutant clones instinctively tensed, their bodies responding to an innate, primal sense of danger. Their muscles coiled, their hands crackling with energy, but…
Apex ignored them.
He didn't even look at them.
His gaze was locked onto one person and one person only.
Sinister.
The room stilled.
The normally smug, ever-smirking scientist held Apex's gaze for a fraction of a second, and in that moment, there was something there, something even he wouldn't admit was fear.
Apex took another slow step forward, and then, without breaking eye contact, he turned his head ever so slightly toward the cloning Jean Grey.
His voice was calm, but absolute.
"Read my mind."
The cloned Jean flinched slightly, caught off guard by the command. The others, Emma, Storm, Kitty, stiffened, their instincts telling them not to trust anything this creature said.
Apex's crimson gaze didn't waver.
"Read my mind," he repeated, his voice a cold, controlled growl. "See the truth of your so-called resurrections. See how this bastard injected his own genetics into all of you."
Jean raised an eyebrow, but there was something in Apex's voice, a certainty, an absolute knowledge that sent a cold chill through her.
She hesitated.
Then, slowly, she reached out with her telepathy, her mind brushing against his.
And then, she saw it.
The truth.
The lies unraveling before her eyes.
Every resurrection. Every DNA strand rewritten by Sinister's hand. Every memory fabricated, carefully curated to fit a false narrative. The genetic tampering, the mockery of identity, the horrors that had been hidden in plain sight.
And then, she saw Apex himself.
The morgue. The
virus consuming Peter Parker's body. The explosion, the transformation, the retaliation.
And most of all—the deception.
Sinister's perfect illusion crumbling into dust.
Jean staggered back, breaking the connection with a sharp gasp, clutching the sides of her head as though she had just been burned.
The room seemed smaller now. The weight of the truth crushing down on them all.
Sinister, for the first time, actually took a step back.
Apex tilted his head slightly, his tendrils flexing as he took in their expressions.
Then, without looking away from Sinister, he spoke.
"Now you know."
The cloned mutants stood frozen in place, their minds scrambling to process the sheer horror of what they had just learned.
Jean, her hands trembling, stared at Apex, unwilling, unable, to reach out again. The truth had burned her once already; she wasn't sure she could handle another searing dose of reality.
Emma looked between them, her sharp mind piecing together the implications, her face paling.
Storm's fingers curled into fists, her posture rigid, her trust in the world crumbling under the unbearable weight of the truth.
And Scott?
His breath hitched, his hands still clenched, his stance wide and defensive—but there was a shift in his entire being.
A crack.
A moment of doubt.
It was Logan who broke the silence.
"Listen to me!" he snarled, his voice raw, desperate, a voice that rarely pleaded, but now had no choice. His claws were still out, not in threat, but in urgency.
"Everyone who's died-!" Logan's voice hitched as his gaze swept across them, his fellow X-Men, his family, or rather, the echoes of them, the shadows Sinister had crafted. His voice was frantic, but the weight behind it was absolute.
"-they're gone. They've been gone this whole time. Their souls moved on." He shook his head violently. "That's why Krakoa fell apart. That's why it all came crashin' down around us, because it was always a damn lie!"
Kitty took a shaky step forward, her voice quieter but just as urgent. "We were all played. You, me, all of us. Sinister didn't resurrect anyone, he just made copies. He's been lying to you from the start."
Scott staggered back a step, his breathing uneven. "No…" His head shook, as if trying to shake the reality out of existence.
Emma was silent, but her mind was racing, breaking apart the falsehoods she had clung to, dissecting the impossible realization that she wasn't even real.
Storm's expression darkened with shock and grief. She could feel the world shifting beneath her, could feel the weight of her own existence twisting into something unbearable.
"No," Scott muttered, but his voice wavered. "No, that's not-!"
BOOM!
The explosion rocked the room.
A detonation so sudden, so violent that it sent a shockwave ripping through the facility.
Sinister hadn't spoken a single word since Apex stepped into the room.
Because he hadn't needed to.
Because the moment the clones had started to break, the moment he had realized he wasn't getting out of this, he had already made his choice.
A trigger built into his own body.
A failsafe for when the game was up.
Apex turned his head just in time to see Sinister's form distort, his entire torso splitting apart as the bomb embedded inside him detonated.
The force sent bodies flying, a deafening roar tearing through the chamber as the walls shook violently, alarms blaring. Flames erupted from the detonation site, metal shrieking as the blast doors buckled inward.
Sinister's laugh never came, there wasn't enough of him left to laugh.
Apex moved before anyone else.
His viral biomass expanded instantly, his instincts overriding everything else, shielding the clones his allies from the full brunt of the shockwave. His tendrils lashed out, absorbing the brunt of the concussive force, his body momentarily shifting into a massive, shifting barrier to protect the others.
Kitty hit the ground hard, ears ringing, her body phasing just in time to avoid being thrown across the room.
Logan had been blown backward, but he was already moving, gritting his teeth through the pain.
Jean, Emma, Storm, and Scott were on the ground, dazed, but alive.
Apex, still standing, his tendrils shifting and flexing like an organic shield, lifted his head. His eyes burned with cold fury as he turned toward the smoldering remains of where Sinister had been.
A deep, low growl rumbled in his chest.
The bastard had taken the coward's way out.
And now, the real question remained.
The clones were staring at the destruction, at the smoking ruin where their so-called leader once stood.
And Apex knew, this was the moment they would have to reckon with what they bought into.
...
To be continued...