Phase One: The War Room
The holographic projector hummed to life in the center of Xavier's war room, casting blue light across the faces of those gathered around the circular table. Forty-seven red dots pulsed across a three-dimensional map of the United States, each one representing a facility, a prison, a laboratory where mutants were held against their will.
Charles Xavier sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled as he studied the display. "There are forty-seven facilities in total," he began, his voice carrying the weight of months of planning. "Spread across the continental United States. Each one holding mutants—or worse." He paused, his expression grave. "Today, we hit twenty-one of them. The most vulnerable, the ones where lives hang in the balance."
Scott Summers leaned forward, his ruby quartz vivisor reflecting the holographic glow. "We're splitting into three strike teams for today's operation. Each one will hit seven targets in sequence." His finger traced routes across the map. "Maximum efficiency, minimum exposure for this first wave."
Ash—though his face bore the illusion of a man in his twenties with sharp features and dark hair—stepped closer to the display. The deception was flawless, masking his true age from all but the X-Men, who had already seen him without the illusion. "Team Alpha handles stealth operations," he said, his voice carrying quiet authority. "Disabling security systems, freeing prisoners without raising alarms. That's me, Pikachu, Storm, and Jean."
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Wind howled across the Nevada desert as four figures materialized in a flash of pink light. Gardevoir's teleportation deposited them behind a ridge overlooking Facility 7—a sprawling complex of concrete and steel that looked more like a prison than a research center.
Ash's illusion flickered slightly in the desert heat as he surveyed the target through binoculars. "Remember—we go in silent. No alarms, no casualties if we can help it."
Storm nodded, her white hair whipping in the wind. "The weather satellites show clear skies for the next hour. We won't have natural cover."
"Then we make our own," Jean said softly, her eyes beginning to glow with psychic energy.
BACK TO:
Beast's claws clicked against the holographic interface as he pulled up detailed schematics. "Team Beta takes the heavy fortifications," he announced. "Facilities with enhanced security, military-grade defenses. Wolverine, Cyclops, Rogue, and Pyro."
Logan grunted from his position against the wall. "About time we stopped playing nice with these bastards."
"The goal is still rescue, not revenge," Charles reminded him gently.
"Sometimes they're the same thing," Logan replied, his claws extending with a metallic snikt.
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The reinforced steel door of Facility 12 in Colorado didn't just explode—it disintegrated. Scott's optic blast, a concentrated beam of ruby-red concussive force, struck the three-inch thick barrier and reduced it to glowing fragments in seconds. The energy discharge lit up the mountain valley like a miniature sun.
Wolverine was through the breach before the metal stopped falling, his adamantium claws extended and gleaming. A security guard raised his weapon, but Logan was already moving with inhuman speed. His left claw swept horizontally, not to kill but to disarm—the assault rifle clattered to the ground in three pieces, its barrel and stock severed cleanly.
"Perimeter's secure," Rogue's voice crackled through their comms as she descended from above like a falling star. She had absorbed the flight powers of a captured guard moments earlier, along with his enhanced strength and tactical knowledge. Her boots hit the concrete with enough force to crack it, and she gestured toward the approaching vehicles in the distance. "Military convoy's still eight minutes out. Local law enforcement's been... delayed."
"Then we do this in six," Scott replied, his visor already charging for another blast. The ruby quartz lenses glowed brighter as he focused his power, then unleashed another precise beam that carved through the facility's main power lines. Sparks rained down as the backup generators kicked in, casting everything in an eerie red emergency lighting.
Pyro stepped through the smoking doorway, his trademark grin wide as flames danced between his fingers like living things. "Finally, someone who speaks my language." He didn't just melt the locks on the containment cells—he turned them into art. The metal flowed like water under his precise control, reshaping itself into harmless puddles that steamed against the cold concrete. Each cell door swung open with a soft hiss, revealing the terrified faces of imprisoned mutants.
But when three guards rushed around the corner, weapons raised, Pyro's playful demeanor vanished. His flames roared to life, creating a wall of fire that blocked their path without burning them. The heat was so intense it warped the air itself, and the guards' weapons began to overheat in their hands.
"Drop them or lose them," Pyro called out cheerfully, his accent thick with Australian inflection. The guards, faced with melting firearms and a wall of flame, chose wisely and surrendered.
BACK TO:
"Team Gamma handles the laboratories," Ash continued, his tone growing colder. "The places where they're not just holding mutants—they're experimenting on them. Iceman, myself, and my pokémon will provide direct assault support."
Bobby Drake nodded grimly. "I've seen the reports. Some of these places..." He didn't finish the sentence.
"Which is why we're not leaving anyone behind," Ash said firmly. "Every mutant, every child, every person they've taken—they all come home today."
Charles closed his eyes, extending his consciousness across the continent. "I'll coordinate from here, maintaining mental contact with each team. Beast will monitor communications and provide tactical support."
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The laboratory in Montana was a tomb of sterile white walls and humming machinery. Ash moved through the corridors like a ghost, his illusion perfect even in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Behind him, Corviknight's metallic form cut through the air with deadly silence, its dark wings folded as it perched on the ceiling supports, watching for threats.
"Pikachu, kill the power to this wing," Ash whispered. "Charmeleon, watch the exits."
The electric mouse nodded, its cheeks sparking with contained energy. But this wasn't the wild, uncontrolled electricity of battle—this was precision work. Pikachu placed its tiny paws against the electrical panel and closed its eyes, feeling the flow of current through the building's systems. Then, with surgical accuracy, it sent targeted pulses through specific circuits. The main lights flickered and died, but the emergency systems remained intact—they would need some light to navigate.
A guard rounded the corner, flashlight in hand and rifle raised. He never saw Charmeleon coming. The fire-type pokémon emerged from the shadows, not with its usual flames but with a precise Smokescreen attack that filled the corridor with thick, choking smoke. The guard stumbled blindly, his weapon useless in the darkness, until Charmeleon's tail—glowing with controlled flame—struck him in a precise nerve point. He collapsed unconscious, his weapon clattering harmlessly to the floor.
In the containment room, Ash's eyes found the glass tubes holding young mutants in suspended animation. "Honedge," he breathed, his voice filled with controlled rage at what he saw.
The ghostly sword materialized beside him, its single eye glowing with ethereal light. But Honedge's work required absolute precision—one wrong cut and the life support systems could kill the very people they were trying to save. The blade moved like a surgeon's scalpel, its spectral edge passing through the complex machinery without touching the vital components. Control panels sparked and died, but the preservation systems continued running on backup power until the tubes could be safely opened.
When more guards burst through the entrance, Corviknight was ready. The massive steel-type pokémon dropped from the ceiling like a metallic thunderbolt, its wings spread wide. Its Steel Wing attack caught the first guard's weapon, the reinforced feathers slicing through the rifle's barrel as easily as paper. The second guard tried to run, but Corviknight's Brave Bird attack—a high-speed aerial assault wreathed in energy—knocked him unconscious before he could raise an alarm.
BACK TO:
Beast's fingers flew over multiple keyboards, his enhanced intellect processing dozens of data streams simultaneously. "Each team has twenty minutes per site," he announced. "Any longer and we risk organized response from military assets."
"Some of these facilities have psychic countermeasures," Charles warned. "I won't be able to maintain contact if they activate their dampening fields."
Jean's expression tightened. "I can handle psychic interference. The question is whether they can handle me."
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The psychic damper felt like broken glass against Jean's consciousness, but she had trained to face worse. She stood in the center of Facility 15's command center, her eyes blazing with focus as she held off 15 people simultaneously. The air around her shimmered with psychic energy, and computer monitors throughout the room began to crack under the mental pressure.
One of the extremist overloaded the dampner machine to try to overwhelm her with a psychic assault meant to break her concentration. But Jean had faced her own inner demons and emerged stronger. She turned the attack back on itself, wrapping the hostile thoughts in a cocoon of calm determination.
"Ash, whatever you're going to do, do it now!" she called out, her voice strained with effort as she maintained her mental shields.
Ash was already moving through the lower levels, Pupitar hovering beside him on waves of psychic energy. The rock-type pokémon's shell glowed with accumulated power as they reached the main holding area—a massive chamber filled with dozens of containment cells.
"These walls are reinforced with some kind of mutant-suppressing alloy," Ash muttered, running his hand along the strange metal. "Standard attacks won't work."
Pupitar's eyes began to glow brighter, and the floor beneath them started to tremble. This wasn't just an Earthquake attack—it was geological engineering. The pokémon's power reached deep into the earth's crust, finding the natural fault lines and stress points in the rock foundation. Instead of bringing the building down, Pupitar was reshaping it from below.
"Stand back!" Ash shouted to the imprisoned mutants as cracks appeared in the supposedly impenetrable walls. The reinforced alloy began to buckle and warp as the very ground beneath it shifted and flowed like water.
When security forces arrived to stop them, they found themselves facing an opponent they couldn't have prepared for. Pupitar's Stone Edge attack sent razor-sharp projectiles of compressed earth through the air, each one precisely aimed to disable weapons without harming the wielders. The guards' high-tech armor was useless against attacks that struck like small meteors, and their energy weapons overloaded when struck by the electrically-charged stone fragments. Of course not everyone could be subdued harmlessly in a real fight, it was inevitable to kill some unintentionally.
"Earthquake!" Ash commanded, and Pupitar's body began to glow with stored seismic energy.
The entire building shuddered as Pupitar unleashed its power, but this wasn't destruction—it was creation. New passages opened in the walls, perfectly smooth tunnels that led directly to the surface. The containment cells cracked open like eggs, their locking mechanisms failing as the building's structure shifted around them.
BACK TO:
"Worst-case scenario," Ash said, his disguised features serious, "is that we trigger a coordinated response. Military deployment, full lockdown of remaining facilities."
"Then we make sure that doesn't happen," Scott replied. "In and out, clean and fast."
"And if it does happen?" Logan asked.
Ash's expression hardened. "Then we adapt. We've faced worse odds before."
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Alarms were blaring across Facility 18 in Texas as Wolverine carved through the last of the security doors, but the plan had evolved rather than failed. When motion sensors detected Storm's approach, the team had adapted with the fluid precision of experienced warriors.
Logan's claws weren't just cutting through steel—they were dismantling the facility's automated defense turrets piece by piece. The massive gun emplacements swiveled toward him, but Logan was already moving, his enhanced reflexes allowing him to dance between the mechanical weapons' firing arcs. His right claw found the joint where the turret connected to its base, and adamantium parted advanced circuitry like butter.
"So much for stealth," Logan growled, his healing factor already working to close the cuts from sparking wires. But there was satisfaction in his voice—sometimes, the direct approach was more honest.
"Sometimes the direct approach works better," Rogue agreed, having just absorbed the strength, speed, and tactical knowledge of three guards simultaneously. The borrowed powers flowed through her like liquid fire, and she could feel each of their fighting styles integrating with her own. She didn't just rip the steel door off its hinges—she folded it into a neat square and tossed it aside like origami.
When a squad of guards rushed around the corner, Rogue moved like a blur. Her borrowed strength let her reach the first guard before he could raise his weapon, her physique allowing her to simply tap him on the shoulder hard enough to send him flying into the wall—unconscious but unharmed. The second guard tried to adapt, but Rogue had absorbed his tactical training as well. She knew exactly how he would move, exactly where he would aim, and she was already somewhere else when he pulled the trigger.
"Bobby, we need an exit!" she called out, ducking under a stun baton that crackled with electricity.
Iceman was already in motion, his body temperature dropping to sub-zero levels. Ice crystals formed in the air around him as he raised his hands, and the moisture in the Texas heat began to coalesce into solid frozen platforms. But this wasn't just an ice slide—it was architecture. Bobby created handholds, safety rails, and even small rest areas for the weaker mutants they were rescuing.
"Express elevator, going down!" he called out, but his attention was divided. Three guards were advancing on him with flame throwers, trying to melt his constructs faster than he could create them.
Bobby's response was to drop the ambient temperature even further. The flames from their weapons began to sputter and die as the fuel lines froze solid. One guard's weapon actually cracked in half from the thermal shock, and the man dropped it with a cry of pain as his hands stuck to the super-cooled metal.
"Ice Beam!" Bobby shouted, more to himself than anyone else in an effort to mock Ash after watching his pokémon battle. The concentrated beam of freezing energy struck the ground between the guards and himself, creating a barrier of ice so thick and smooth that their boots couldn't find purchase. They slid helplessly away from the conflict, alive but out of the fight.
BACK TO:
The holographic display updated in real-time, showing the progress of each team. Green lights marked successful extractions, yellow indicated ongoing operations, and red meant complications.
"Team Alpha is ahead of schedule," Beast reported. "Six facilities cleared, forty-three mutants rescued so far."
"Team Beta is encountering heavier resistance," Charles noted, his expression strained as he maintained mental contact across multiple battlefields. "But they're pushing through."
"Team Gamma..." Beast paused, his blue fur bristling. "There's something wrong with the Montana facility. I'm reading massive structural damage."
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The laboratory was collapsing around them as Ash led a stream of rescued mutants toward the exit. Pupitar had done its job too well—the building's foundation was compromised.
"Gardevoir!" Ash called out, his disguise flickering as he exerted himself. The psychic-type pokémon appeared in a flash of light, her arms already glowing with telekinetic energy.
"Can you hold it?" Ash asked, gesturing to the crumbling ceiling.
Gardevoir nodded, her eyes blazing with determination as she created a psychic barrier above the fleeing mutants. But Ash could see the strain in her posture—she couldn't maintain this for long.
"Corviknight, clear the exit! Charmeleon, help me with the stragglers!"
The fire-type pokémon breathed a controlled flame, melting through debris that blocked their path while Corviknight's powerful wings created a downdraft that cleared smoke from the air.
BACK TO:
"All teams, be advised," Charles's voice echoed through the war room and across the continent through the mental link. "Satellite imagery shows military vehicles approaching three of our target sites. We're running out of time."
"Then we finish this," Scott said simply, his hand moving to his visor.
"Team leaders, sound off," Beast called over the communications array.
"Team Alpha, six targets down, one to go," Jean's voice crackled through the speakers, strain evident in her tone.
"Team Beta, five down, two remaining," Logan's gravelly voice reported. "But we've got company coming."
"Team Gamma..." There was a pause before Ash's voice came through, slightly distorted by his illusion. "Seven down. All objectives complete."
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The final facility—a black site in Wyoming that didn't officially exist—was the most heavily fortified of all. As the three teams converged on the location, Ash allowed his illusion to drop momentarily, revealing his true young face to his pokémon.
"This is it," he said softly. "The big one. Intel suggests they're holding at least a hundred mutants here, including some who've been missing for years."
Jean landed beside him, her powers still flickering around her like waves. "I can sense them," she said, her voice heavy with emotion. "So many minds... some of them are just children."
Storm's eyes began to glow white as she called upon the elements. "Then we bring them home."
Scott's visor hummed with charging energy. "All teams, coordinate assault. We go in hard and fast."
Wolverine's claws extended with their familiar sound. "About damn time."
BACK TO:
The war room was tense as the final assault began. Charles gripped the arms of his wheelchair, his consciousness spread across the battlefield, coordinating the efforts of nearly a dozen mutants and six pokémon.
"Structural integrity of the facility is compromised," Beast reported. "But they're inside the main holding area."
"Military response is three minutes out," Charles said grimly. "They need to move now."
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The final battle was chaos incarnate, but it was controlled chaos—the kind that came from months of training and years of experience. Cyclops's optic blasts didn't just carve through reinforced walls; they did so with surgical precision. Each beam was calculated for maximum structural damage with minimal risk to the prisoners inside. When a section of wall threatened to collapse on a group of rescued mutants, Scott's follow-up blast struck the falling debris and vaporized it into harmless dust.
Wolverine moved through the facility's defenses like a force of nature. His claws found every weakness in the enemy's armor, every gap in their formations. When a guard tried to use a taser on him, Logan's healing factor absorbed the electrical shock while his adamantium skeleton conducted it harmlessly away. His retaliatory strike was swift and precise—claws extended just enough to cut through the man's body armor without touching flesh, leaving him unharmed but definitely defeated.
Storm's mastery of the elements turned the battlefield into her domain. She didn't just call down lightning—she wielded it like a precision instrument. Electrical bolts struck weapons with pinpoint accuracy, overloading circuits and disabling technology without harming the humans holding them. Her winds created barriers of moving air that deflected incoming projectiles, while her ability to control atmospheric pressure allowed her to create pockets of thin air that left attackers gasping and disoriented.
When a group of guards tried to flank them, Storm's response was to create a localized tornado in the corridor. The spinning vortex of air lifted the men harmlessly off their feet and deposited them in a tangle of limbs at the far end of the hallway, too dizzy to continue fighting.
Rogue had absorbed so many different abilities by this point that she was essentially a one-woman army. Flight from one guard, enhanced strength from another, tactical knowledge from a third, and even a limited form of energy projection from a mutant enforcer. She moved through the facility like a living weapon, each of her actions informed by borrowed expertise.
But it was Ash and his pokémon who led the charge into the heart of the facility with devastating effectiveness. Corviknight's Steel Wing attacks weren't just powerful—they were intelligent. The massive bird pokémon used its wings to create sonic booms that shattered glass and disrupted communications equipment, while its Brave Bird attacks struck with the force of a guided missile but with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel.
When a squad of guards tried to surround them, Corviknight's response was to use its Roost ability to recover from battle damage while simultaneously creating a whirlwind with its wings. The artificial tornado scattered the guards like leaves, disarming them without causing serious injury.
Pikachu's electricity was a thing of beauty in combat. The electric mouse had learned to modulate its power output with incredible precision, sending targeted jolts through the facility's electrical systems to disable security cameras, unlock doors, and overload weapons. When faced with human opponents, Pikachu's Thunder Wave attack left them paralyzed but unharmed—a non-lethal takedown that was as effective as it was merciful.
One guard tried to grab Pikachu with a pair of insulated gloves, but the pokémon's Agility attack made it faster than the human eye could follow. It scampered up the man's arm, delivered a precisely calibrated electric shock to a pressure point on his neck, and was back on the ground before the guard even realized what had happened.
Charmeleon's flames were perhaps the most spectacular display of controlled power. The fire-type pokémon could regulate its internal temperature with such precision that it could melt steel doors without setting off smoke alarms, or create walls of fire that provided perfect concealment without actually burning anything.
When a group of guards tried to use riot shields to advance on their position, Charmeleon's response was to use its Smokescreen attack to fill the corridor with thick, choking smoke. But this wasn't ordinary smoke—it was heated to just the right temperature to trigger the facility's fire suppression systems. Water rained down from the ceiling, creating a perfect distraction as the guards struggled with their footing on the slippery floor.
Pupitar's earth-shaking power was the foundation of their assault strategy. The rock-type pokémon didn't just create exits—it redesigned the entire building's layout in real-time. Walls crumbled and reformed, creating cover for the X-Men while exposing their enemies. Floors shifted and tilted, making it impossible for guards to maintain stable firing positions.
When a group of heavily armed security forces tried to corner them in the main containment area, Pupitar's response was to use its Sandstorm attack to fill the air with sharp, abrasive particles. The guards' high-tech visors were overwhelmed by the swirling debris, their targeting systems useless in the artificial storm.
Honedge moved like a phantom through the battle, its ghostly blade cutting through the psychic dampening fields that kept the prisoners subdued. But the sword pokémon was also a guardian, using its Shadow Sneak attack to appear instantly wherever a rescue was needed. When one guard tried to use a child mutant as a human shield, Honedge materialized behind him and used its Slash attack to create a whirlwind of blades that took his head without a chance of retaliation.
"This way!" Ash shouted, his illusion holding perfectly even in the chaos of battle as he guided a group of children toward the exit. "Gardevoir, we need extraction for the ones who can't walk!"
The psychic-type pokémon was already moving, her telekinetic powers lifting the weakest of the rescued mutants with infinite care. But Gardevoir was also a formidable combatant when needed. When a squad of guards tried to cut off their escape route, her Psychic attack didn't just stop them—it carefully removed their weapons, their communication devices, and even their shoes, leaving them harmless and slightly confused as they stood in the corridor in their socks.
Her Teleport ability allowed her to move instantly between different parts of the facility, evacuating prisoners faster than any vehicle could have managed. Each teleportation was precise and gentle, ensuring that even the most traumatized mutants felt safe in her psychic embrace.
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"All teams, extraction is complete," Beast announced, his voice filled with relief. "One hundred and twelve mutants recovered, zero casualties among our people."
Charles smiled, exhaustion clear on his face as he released his mental hold on the operation. "Well done, everyone. Bring them home."
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Xavier's mansion had never felt more like a sanctuary. The rescued mutants were spread throughout the medical wing, the dormitories, and the common areas. Some were reunited with family members they thought they'd never see again. Others were meeting other mutants for the first time in their lives.
Ash stood in the garden, as he watched his pokémon playing with some of the younger rescues. Pikachu was demonstrating small, harmless electric sparks to a girl who could control light, while Charmeleon was carefully warming a boy whose ice powers had been overloaded for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like to be hot.
"You did well today," Charles said, his wheelchair approaching silently across the grass.
"We all did," Ash replied, his young face serious. "But there are more out there. There always are."
"Yes," Charles agreed. "But today, we saved one hundred and twelve lives. Today, we reminded the world that mutants are not alone."
As the sun set over the Xavier Institute, the rescued mutants began to settle into their new home. Some would stay permanently, others would move on once they were ready. But all of them would carry with them the knowledge that they had not been forgotten, that there were those willing to risk everything to bring them home.
***
Ash stood at the front of the room, his illusion firmly in place, appearing as a man in his twenties with sharp features and tired eyes. His pokémon were scattered throughout the crowd—Pikachu perched on his shoulder, Corviknight standing silent guard near the windows, and Gardevoir positioned where she could monitor the emotional state of the traumatized rescues.
"First," Ash began, his voice carrying clearly through the hall, "I want to thank every single person who participated in today's operations. X-Men, support staff, everyone who stayed behind to prepare for the arrivals—you all made this possible."
A murmur of acknowledgment rippled through the crowd. Scott nodded from his position near the front, while Storm offered a tired but genuine smile. Logan, leaning against the far wall, simply grunted his approval.
"The numbers speak for themselves," Ash continued. "Twenty-one facilities neutralized. One hundred and twelve mutants freed. Zero casualties among our forces, and minimal harm to the facility personnel." He paused, letting the weight of those words settle. "But this is only the beginning."
Charles Xavier wheeled forward slightly, his telepathic presence offering calm and stability to the room. "The remaining facilities will be expecting us now," he said. "They'll have upgraded their security, called in favors, maybe even requested military support."
"Which is why we need to be smart about our next move," Ash replied. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a small data drive, its surface gleaming under the hall's lights. "During our operations today, my pokémon and I gathered something more valuable than just the prisoners we freed."
The room fell silent, every eye focused on the tiny device in Ash's hand.
"This drive contains evidence," he said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Documentation, video footage, medical records, financial transactions—everything we could extract from the facilities' databases. It's proof of what these people have been doing to mutants for years."
Dr. Hank McCoy stepped forward, his blue fur catching the light as he moved. "What kind of evidence are we talking about?"
Ash walked over to Beast, extending the drive toward him. "The kind that would end careers, topple governments, and send a lot of very powerful people to prison for the rest of their lives." He placed the device in Beast's large, gentle hands. "Medical experiments without consent. Torture disguised as 'conditioning.' Financial records showing government funding for illegal research. Video testimony from guards who thought they were just following orders."
Beast's scholarly demeanor shifted to something darker as he examined the drive. "How much data are we talking about?"
"Terabytes," Ash replied. "From all twenty-one facilities. Cross-referenced, verified, and organized by facility, date, and type of violation. Rotom is very thorough when it comes to data extraction."
Jean Grey stood up from her seat, her face pale. "Some of the rescued mutants... they've been talking about what was done to them. If this evidence corroborates their stories..."
"It will," Ash said grimly. "And it will prove that this wasn't the work of a few rogue scientists. This was systematic, coordinated, and funded at the highest levels."
The room erupted in whispers and murmurs. Some of the rescued mutants began to cry, finally understanding that their suffering had been documented and would be exposed. Others looked angry, ready to fight again.
"But here's the problem," Ash continued, raising his voice to regain attention. "We can't just upload this to the internet and hope for the best. The people involved in this conspiracy have resources, connections, and the ability to spin this as fake news or terrorist propaganda. They'll discredit the evidence, discredit us, and probably use it as justification for even harsher anti-mutant policies."
Beast nodded slowly, his scientific mind already working through the implications. "We need a coordinated release strategy. Multiple media outlets, international coverage, independent verification..."
"Exactly," Ash said. "Which is why I'm giving this to you, Dr. McCoy. You have the scientific credentials, the media contacts, and the reputation needed to make this stick. But we need to be careful about how we do this."
Storm rose from her seat, her white hair catching the light. "What about the remaining facilities? If we release this evidence, won't they destroy their own records and disappear?"
"That's why hit them before the evidence release," Ash replied. "We rest for eight hours. Just eight hours to recover, regroup, and prepare for the final phase. Then we hit the remaining twenty-six facilities simultaneously—all of them, with minimum time gap, before they can prepare for further attacks."
Scott frowned. "Twenty-six facilities at once? That's impossible. We don't have the manpower."
"We will," Ash said confidently. "I've been holding back some of my resources, waiting for the right moment. Trust me—when phase two begins, we'll have everything we need."
Charles studied Ash's illusion-masked face carefully. "You're talking about a coordinated media blitz followed immediately by the largest rescue operation in mutant history. The timing will have to be perfect."
"It will be," Ash assured him. "Dr. McCoy, I need you to identify three things: the most credible journalists who would be willing to break this story, the scientific institutions that could verify the evidence independently, and the government officials who might actually act on this information instead of trying to cover it up."
Beast clutched the drive tightly. "This is... this is going to change everything. Not just for mutants, but for human-mutant relations entirely. Once this gets out, there's no going back."
"There's already no going back," Logan said from the wall, his voice rough with emotion. "The moment we walked into those facilities and saw what they were doing to kids, to families... there was never going to be a quiet resolution to this."
Ash nodded. "Logan's right. The time for quiet diplomacy ended the moment they decided to treat mutants as lab rats. But we're not going to handle this like terrorists or vigilantes. We're going to do it right—with evidence, with truth, and with the full weight of public opinion behind us."
He turned to address the room as a whole. "I know you're all tired. I know some of you are hurt, scared, or angry. But in eight hours, we're going to finish what we started today. We're going to free every single mutant still trapped in those facilities, and we're going to make sure the world knows exactly what was done to them."
The room was silent for a long moment, the weight of what they were planning settling over everyone present.
"Eight hours," Ash repeated. "Get some rest, tend to your injuries, spend time with the people you've rescued. Because when those eight hours are up, we're going to change the world."
As the crowd began to disperse, Beast remained behind, staring at the small drive in his hands. "Ash," he called out as the young trainer prepared to leave. "What if the evidence isn't enough? What if they find a way to bury this?"
Ash's illusion flickered slightly, and for just a moment, Beast caught a glimpse of the determined young face beneath the disguise. "Then we make sure they can't," he said simply. "The truth has a way of coming out, Dr. McCoy. Our job is just to make sure it comes out loud enough for everyone to hear."
With that, Ash walked away, his pokémon following in his wake. Beast watched them go, then looked down at the drive again. In his hands, he held the power to expose one of the greatest injustices in human history. The question was whether he—whether any of them—were ready for the consequences of using it.
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A.N. Tried something new this chapter hope you enjoyed it!
I have a theory... I don't know if this is correct or not, but I like to think that Legendary Pokémon have a low potential for growth as they are already strong since birth, but normal Pokémon have a high potential for growth and can grow to champion level or higher and sometimes match Legendary Pokémon in strength based on their training and experience.
Tell me what you think in the comments and I'll see you guys next time.
GIVE ME POWER STONESS!!!!!!!!!!