The war room at Xavier's Mansion had never felt more electric. Ash stood before the massive holographic display, watching red dots blink across the continental map like bleeding wounds. Five facilities. Five remaining bastions of humanity's darkest experiments on mutant-kind.
Twenty-six hours ago, we were just the X-Men, Ash thought, glancing at Magneto's imposing silhouette framed against the glowing screens. The Master of Magnetism stood with his hands clasped behind his back, metal fragments orbiting his form in lazy, hypnotic patterns. Ten hours ago, we were enemies. Now we're the most efficient strike force I've ever seen.
The transformation had been remarkable. The first twelve hours of their campaign had been brutal but effective—twenty-one facilities had fallen to the X-Men's coordinated assault. But it was when Magneto had arrived, halfway through their mission, that everything changed. Where the X-Men had moved with careful precision, constrained by their moral code and reluctance to cause collateral damage, the Brotherhood's integration had added a ruthless efficiency that cut through defenses like Logan's claws through paper.
Mystique's intelligence network had provided detailed floor plans and guard rotations within hours of joining them. Magneto's raw power had disabled entire security systems with a gesture. Even Blob's surprising tactical insights had proven invaluable in planning their approaches. In the last thirteen hours, they'd dismantled twenty-two more facilities with surgical precision.
Forty-three facilities had fallen in just over a day. Each raid had been a symphony of coordinated destruction, with Ash's creatures providing capabilities that even the combined might of mutants couldn't match. Gardevoir's teleportation had made the impossible possible—allowing them to strike across vast distances without the exhaustion of constant travel.
"The last five won't go down easy," Ash said aloud, his voice carrying the weight of twenty-six hours of continuous combat. Dark circles under his eyes spoke to the toll the campaign was taking, but his Aura still burned with determined intensity. "They've had time to prepare. Every facility we've hit has been feeding them intelligence."
Magneto stepped forward, his cape rippling with an unfelt breeze. The metal fragments around him began to spin faster, creating a soft whirring sound that seemed to underscore his words. "Let them prepare. Fear makes humans predictable. They'll fortify their positions, concentrate their forces, and in doing so, make themselves easier targets."
"Not fear," Scott interjected, adjusting his ruby quartz visor with a sharp click. His jaw was set in that familiar stubborn line, though exhaustion was beginning to show around his eyes. "Desperation. That's what makes them dangerous. A cornered animal fights twice as hard."
Storm's voice carried from where she stood studying weather patterns on a secondary display, her white hair slightly disheveled from their recent battles. "Scott's right. The intelligence we've gathered suggests they're not just scared—they're panicking. Tripling security, calling in favors, even reaching out to government contacts they've kept hidden."
The holographic display shifted at Ash's gesture, zooming in on each remaining target. The room fell silent as the details populated—satellite images showing reinforced walls, new guard towers, and the telltale heat signatures of heavy weapons installations. Ash felt his jaw tighten as he read the facility designations:
"Alkali Lake," Logan growled from his position in the corner, smoke curling from the cigar clenched between his teeth. His claws extended with that distinctive snikt sound, reflecting the holographic light like chrome blades. "Stryker's main base. That bastard's been using it as his personal laboratory for God knows how long."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Everyone knew Logan's tortured history—the stolen memories, the adamantium bonding, the years of psychological torture that had turned him into Weapon X. But his memories of the facility itself were fractured, unreliable.
"Which is why we save it for last," Ash said, his hand moving to Gardevoir's Pokéball. "The others first. We hit them in sequence—Gardevoir can teleport us between locations, no time wasted on travel."
"How's she holding up?" Jean asked, genuine concern in her voice. The psychic Pokémon had been working overtime, teleporting the entire team across vast distances repeatedly. "That much teleportation across such distances..."
Ash's expression grew thoughtful as he felt through their Aura link. Gardevoir's mental presence was steady but tired, like a marathon runner pacing themselves for the final stretch. "She's strong. Stronger than most people give her credit for. But you're right—we need to be smart about this."
Hank McCoy's voice crackled through the comm system from the mansion's sub-basement laboratory. "The coordination you've achieved is remarkable. Simultaneous intelligence gathering, surgical strikes, and complete facility neutralization. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've been working together for months."
"Mutual hatred makes for strange bedfellows," Mystique observed, her blue form shimmering as she reviewed tactical data on her tablet. "These facilities represent everything we've been fighting against—just from different angles."
Charles Xavier's mental presence touched each of their minds, warm and reassuring despite the gravity of their situation. The sequence is sound. El Paso, Texas—their research facility may hold intelligence about the others. Then the production center in Indiana, the cloning laboratory in Ohio, the weapons testing in Alabama, and finally Alkali Lake.
"What about the research in Texas?" Rogue asked, her southern accent thick with exhaustion. They'd all been pushing themselves beyond normal limits. "Intel suggests it's just another experimentation facility."
"That's what makes it dangerous," Ash replied, his voice taking on the tone of a seasoned commander. "The facilities we can predict are the ones we can plan for. It's the surprises that kill you."
Pyro leaned forward, flame dancing between his fingers with less enthusiasm than usual—even his pyrokinetic abilities were feeling the strain. "So what's the play? Hit them hard and fast like the others?"
"We hit them strategically," Ash confirmed. "Each facility has shown us they have specific purposes. The production plant in Indiana makes the collars, the cloning lab in Ohio creates their cannon fodder, the weapons testing in Alabama breaks captured mutants. Texas might be the brain that coordinates them all."
"And if it's not?" Scott asked, his tactical mind already working through contingencies.
"Then we adapt," Magneto said simply, his voice carrying the confidence of someone who had spent decades turning impossible situations to his advantage. "We've proven remarkably... flexible... in our approach."
Storm moved to the center of the room, her leadership presence commanding attention despite her fatigue. "Teams stay the same as before. We've found our rhythm—no point in changing what works. Jean, you're with me and Ash for primary assault. Scott, Logan, and Magneto handle perimeter and backup. Mystique, Rogue, and the others provide tactical support."
"And if we encounter something unexpected?" Jean asked, her telepathic abilities already reaching out to scan for potential threats.
Ash's response was to place his hand on Gardevoir's Pokéball, feeling the Pokémon's steady presence through their link. "Then we improvise. It's gotten us this far."
***
Texas - The Unexpected Discovery
The Arsenal facility looked innocuous from the outside—a collection of low, concrete buildings nestled against the foothills, surrounded by the kind of fencing that suggested government research rather than anything sinister. But Ash's Aura sense was picking up something different, something that made his skin crawl.
"Teleportation in three... two... one..." he murmured, feeling Gardevoir's psychic energy envelop the team.
The world dissolved into white light and psychic energy. For a moment, they existed in the space between spaces, riding Gardevoir's teleportation across hundreds of miles in an instant. Then reality reasserted itself, and they were standing in the facility's main parking lot.
"Still not used to that," Scott muttered, adjusting his visor as he oriented himself. "How do you not get motion sickness?"
"Practice," Ash replied, though he was already moving toward the facility's entrance. His Aura was reacting to something inside the building—a wrongness that made his teeth ache. "Something's different about this place. My Aura's practically screaming warnings."
Storm's eyes flashed white as she called upon her powers. The sky above them began to darken, storm clouds gathering with unnatural speed. "Perimeter's secure. Jean, what are you sensing?"
Jean's telepathic scan revealed the expected number of minds—scientists, security personnel, the usual complement of a research facility. But underneath it all was something else, something that made her psychic abilities recoil. "There's something here that's... empty. Like a void where psychic energy should be."
"Anti-mutant research," Magneto concluded, his voice carrying grim satisfaction. "They're trying to find ways to neutralize us on a permanent basis."
The assault was swift and efficient. Storm's lightning disabled the power grid while Magneto's metal manipulation turned the facility's own infrastructure against it. Ash moved through the chaos like a force of nature, his Aura-enhanced senses guiding him toward the source of the wrongness he felt.
"Pikachu, Thunder Wave on the security systems," he commanded, releasing his electric partner. The mouse Pokémon's electrical discharge spread through the facility's metal framework, overloading circuits and disabling the remaining automated defenses.
They found the main laboratory two levels down, hidden behind reinforced blast doors and biometric locks. The sterile white corridors were lined with observation windows looking into chambers filled with sophisticated equipment that seemed to bend light around itself.
"Jesus," Logan breathed, his enhanced senses picking up chemical signatures that made his claws extend involuntarily. "What the hell are they doing in there?"
The answer came when they breached the main research lab. The room was filled with equipment that looked more like a chemical processing plant than a traditional laboratory. Massive vats contained what appeared to be food additives, while centrifuges spun samples of various substances. Computer screens displayed molecular diagrams and chemical formulas that made Jean's head spin.
"It's not just suppression," Jean whispered, her telepathic abilities recoiling from the equipment. "They're trying to..." She paused, her face paling as she read the research notes. "They're trying to put suppressors in the food supply. Mass distribution through processed foods."
The implications hit them like a physical blow. Not collars that could be removed, not temporary suppression that would fade—permanent, widespread genetic suppression delivered through the very food people ate every day.
"How close are they?" Storm asked, her voice tight with controlled fury.
Ash moved to the computer terminals, his Aura allowing him to interface with the electronic systems in ways that surprised even him. "The research is extensive, but they're having problems with stability. The suppression compounds break down too quickly, and the delivery mechanisms are unreliable."
"Thank God for small mercies," Scott muttered, but his voice carried no relief. "If they'd succeeded..."
"Every mutant on Earth would have been neutralized without ever knowing it," Magneto finished, his voice carrying the weight of barely contained rage. "Genocide through dietary manipulation."
"Not anymore," Ash said, his Aura flaring as he began to systematically destroy the research data. "Charmeleon, Flamethrower on the chemical processing equipment. Turn it all to slag."
The Fire-type's flames roared to life, melting the sophisticated equipment into twisted metal sculptures. The chemical vats cracked and spilled their contents, creating a toxic soup that would never threaten another mutant.
"We need to take samples," Jean said, her scientific training overriding her emotional response. "If they were close to a breakthrough, other facilities might be continuing the research."
"Agreed," Storm decided. "But everything else burns. This research dies here."
The extraction was swift and thorough. They took only what they needed for analysis, leaving the rest of the facility in ruins. As Gardevoir prepared to teleport them to Indiana, Ash felt a grim satisfaction at the destruction they'd wrought.
But he also felt a growing unease. If Texas had been this advanced, what surprises waited at the other facilities?
***
Indiana - The Production Line
The facility sprawled across the desert like a mechanized infection, its solar arrays and cooling towers creating a forest of metal and glass that shimmered in the heat. The collar production center was operating at full capacity, its assembly lines working around the clock to create the devices that had become humanity's favorite weapon against mutants.
Gardevoir's teleportation deposited them on the facility's main production floor, where automated systems continued their work with mechanical precision. The psychic Pokémon's fatigue was beginning to show—her normally pristine white form was slightly disheveled, and her red eyes held a weariness that spoke to the toll of constant teleportation.
"Easy, girl," Ash murmured, his hand touching her shoulder as she steadied herself. Through their Aura link, he could feel her determination overriding her exhaustion. "Just a few more."
The production floor was a marvel of twisted engineering. Hundreds of collars moved along assembly lines, each one calibrated to suppress specific mutations. Neural interface components gleamed under the harsh industrial lighting, while crystalline suppressors pulsed with an anti-mutant energy that made Ash's Aura recoil.
"Blob, crowd control," Ash commanded as his massive teammate positioned himself at the facility's main entrance. "Pyro, Iceman—take out the assembly lines. Make it look like an accident if you can."
The Australian mutant's flames danced across the production equipment with artistic precision, melting critical components while leaving the overall structure intact. Iceman's ice followed, thermal shock shattering the heated metal and creating the appearance of catastrophic equipment failure.
"Pupitar, Sand Stream," Ash called, releasing the cocoon Pokémon. "Jam everything that's left."
The Rock-type's ability filled the air with an abrasive cloud that infiltrated the delicate machinery. Precision instruments began to malfunction as the fine particles clogged their mechanisms, while electronic components sparked and failed.
"Honedge, spectral cuts on the control systems," Ash continued, his sword Pokémon materializing in a flash of ghostly light. "Bring the whole building down."
The Ghost-type's blade passed through the facility's computer systems like they were made of mist, severing critical connections without triggering explosive failsafes. The production lines ground to a halt as their controlling intelligence died.
In the administrative wing, they found the shipping manifests that revealed the true scope of the operation. Thousands of collars, ready for deployment to locations across the globe. The destinations were chilling in their mundane normalcy—schools, hospitals, community centers, even grocery stores in mutant-populated areas.
"They weren't just planning to collar known mutants," Rogue observed, her southern accent thick with disgust. "They were planning to collar everyone, just in case."
"A world where every human wears a collar that activates if they develop mutant abilities," Jean said, her voice hollow. "Insurance against the next generation."
Storm's response was swift and decisive. Lightning struck the warehouse where the finished collars were stored, the electrical discharge overloading the devices and rendering them useless. The metal components fused together in twisted sculptures of melted hatred.
"Two down," she said grimly. "Three to go."
***
Ohio - The Clone Farm
The Ohio facility was built into the side of a mountain, its entrance hidden behind what appeared to be a natural rock formation. From the outside, it looked like a geological survey station. The reality was far more sinister—a factory for creating human copies, genetic templates stolen from mutants across the globe.
Gardevoir's teleportation brought them directly into the facility's main corridor, bypassing the surface camouflage entirely.
"Forty-seven life signs," Mystique reported, her form shifting to match the facility's security uniforms. "But the genetic signatures are... odd. Multiple instances of the same markers."
"Clones," Logan confirmed, his enhanced senses picking up scents that made his claws extend involuntarily. "Lots of them. And they're all wrong—like someone took genetic codes and scrambled them."
The facility's corridors were pristine white, lit by harsh fluorescent lights that made everything look sterile and cold. Magneto's power reached out ahead of them, feeling for metal components and structural weaknesses. His expression grew increasingly grim as he sensed the facility's true scope.
"This place is massive," he reported. "Much larger than the surface structure suggests. They've been excavating for years."
They found the first cloning chambers in the facility's upper levels—dozens of tanks filled with greenish fluid and half-formed bodies. Some were clearly attempts to replicate known mutants, but others were more experimental. The genetic templates were recognizable, but the execution was flawed, resulting in twisted parodies of the originals.
"Christ," Scott breathed, stopping before a tank that contained a malformed version of himself. The clone's skull was elongated to accommodate oversized optic nerves, and even through the suspension fluid, the characteristic red glow of unstable optic blasts was visible.
"They've been collecting genetic samples from every mutant they could find," Jean realized, her telepathic abilities detecting the faint mental patterns of the clones. "Some of these templates are decades old."
Logan's reaction was more visceral. His claws extended fully as he moved through the chamber, his enhanced senses cataloging the various genetic abominations. "That's me. That's Erik. That's..." He paused before a tank containing a small figure with familiar features. "That's just a kid."
The figure in the tank was perhaps twelve years old, her body lean and wiry like a young predator. Her hair was dark like Logan's, but longer, and even in suspension, her face held an expression of fierce determination. Most disturbing were her hands—small bone claws extended from her knuckles, just like Logan's but smaller and more delicate.
"X-23," Mystique identified, consulting her stolen files. "One of their few successful projects. Enhanced healing factor, adamantium claws, trained from birth to be a weapon."
"She's conscious," Jean observed, her telepathic abilities detecting active brain patterns. "They've been keeping her aware during the process. That's... that's torture."
The girl's eyes opened as if responding to Jean's words, tracking their movement with predatory precision. There was intelligence there, but also something else—a wildness that spoke of genetic conditioning and psychological manipulation.
"We're getting her out," Logan declared, his voice rough with emotion. "All of them that can be saved."
"Some of these are too far gone," Magneto observed, his gaze sweeping over the more grotesque failures. "The genetic damage is too extensive. They couldn't survive outside their artificial wombs."
"Then we end their suffering," Logan said quietly. "But the viable ones come with us."
The liberation process was methodical and heartbreaking. Mystique's technical expertise allowed them to safely extract the viable clones, while Magneto's power provided the necessary medical equipment by reshaping the facility's metal components. The girl designated X-23 was brought out of suspension with particular care, her small form monitored constantly as she made the transition to natural breathing.
When her eyes opened for the first time outside the tank, they fixed on Logan with an intensity that was both childlike and ancient. She didn't speak—whether from psychological conditioning or physical limitation was unclear—but her small hand reached out to touch his face.
"Easy, kid," Logan murmured, his voice gentler than anyone had heard it in years. "You're safe now."
Her response was to extend her Metal claws—not in threat, but in recognition. She'd found her genetic template, and some deep instinct told her she was finally where she belonged.
***
Alabama - The Weapon Forge
The Alabama facility was a fortress built into the Hills floor, its underground chambers extending deep into the earth like a technological ant colony. Unlike the other installations, this one was designed not for research or production, but for something far more sinister—the weaponization of captured mutants.
The facility's layout was a maze of corridors and chambers, each one designed to contain and control different types of mutant abilities. The walls were lined with dampening fields and neural disruptors, while the floors were embedded with pressure sensors and tracking devices.
"Thirty-eight mutants in holding," Jean reported, her telepathic scan revealing the scope of the horror. "But they're not just prisoners. They've been... changed. Augmented with technology that forces them to use their abilities as weapons."
The holding cells were a nightmare of technological horror. Mutants who had been captured over the years were confined in chambers specifically designed to amplify their abilities while keeping them under complete control. Technological implants forced them to use their powers as directed, while psychological conditioning broke their will to resist.
Some had been turned into living weapons—their bodies augmented with machinery that channeled their mutations into instruments of destruction. Others had been subjected to experiments that pushed their abilities beyond safe limits, leaving them barely human.
"We need to move fast," Storm decided, her weather powers already responding to her emotional state. "These people aren't just torture victims—they're walking weapons that could be turned against us."
The liberation was both swift and tragic. Some of the weaponized mutants collapsed when their control devices were removed, their bodies unable to handle the sudden return of their free will. Others looked around with the confused eyes of people waking from a nightmare, unable to understand where they were or what had happened to them.
"The psychological damage," Jean whispered, her telepathic abilities detecting the extent of the mental conditioning. "Some of these people... they may never recover."
"But they'll have the chance to try," Ash said firmly. "That's more than they had before."
***
Alkali Lake - The Final Confrontation
The sun was setting over the Canadian Rockies as Gardevoir made her final teleportation of the day, bringing the team to a plateau overlooking Alkali Lake. The psychic Pokémon immediately collapsed to her knees, her elegant form trembling with exhaustion from the day's efforts.
"You did perfectly," Ash said, kneeling beside her as he offered her a Pokéball. "Rest now. You've earned it."
The facility sprawled across the shoreline like a metallic cancer, its industrial complex reflecting the dying light. Unlike the other installations, this one felt different—older, more established, with the kind of permanence that spoke to decades of operation.
"That's it," Logan said, his voice carrying decades of pain as he stared at the installation. "The place where it all began. Where Stryker turned me into his weapon."
Jean's telepathic scan revealed hundreds of minds within the facility—scientists, security personnel, and dozens of mutant prisoners. But at the center of it all was something that made her psychic abilities recoil in horror.
"There's something else," she said, her voice strained. "Something that feels like me, but wrong. Broken."
"Jason Stryker," Ash confirmed, his own Aura beginning to flicker in response to the psychic disturbance. "William's son. A telepath who was turned into a weapon by his own father."
The assault began with Magneto's power reaching across the water, systematically disabling the facility's metal infrastructure. Security systems sparked and died, automated defenses turned on each other, and reinforced doors crumpled like paper.
"Move fast," Ash commanded, his remaining Pokémon materializing around him. "We don't know what kind of failsafes Stryker has in place."
They descended on the facility like a force of nature. Storm's lightning struck the power grid with devastating accuracy, while Scott's optic blasts carved through defensive barriers. Logan's claws sang as they cut through anything that stood in their way, and Magneto's metal manipulation turned the facility's own structure into a weapon against its defenders.
But it was when they reached the facility's depths that the real horror became apparent. The holding cells contained dozens of mutants, including faces that were unfamiliar but would become legendary—a young man with blue skin and a devilish tail, a girl who seemed to phase in and out of existence, and another whose skin sparkled with barely contained energy.
"Who are you?" the blue-skinned mutant asked in accented English, his yellow eyes wide with hope and fear.
"We're the X-Men," Ash replied, his Aura flaring as he began to break their restraints. "We're here to get you out."
The girl with the phasing ability looked around in confusion. "I don't understand. Where am I? How long have I been here?"
"Too long," Storm said gently, her motherly instincts emerging despite the chaos around them. "But you're safe now. What's your name?"
"Kitty," the girl replied, her voice small and frightened. "Kitty Pryde."
"And I'm Jubilee," the sparkling girl added, her powers creating small fireworks in her palms. "Are you really here to rescue us?"
"That's exactly what we're here for," Jean assured them, her telepathic abilities already working to calm their trauma-induced panic.
But even as they freed the prisoners, Ash could feel a growing wrongness in the facility. Something was building, some kind of psychic pressure that made his Aura recoil.
"The son," he realized. "Jason Stryker. He's here, and he's preparing something."
The confrontation came in the facility's command center, where William Stryker waited with his grotesquely altered son. Jason was a pale, bald figure connected to dozens of cables and tubes, his eyes glowing with malevolent psychic energy.
"Welcome to Alkali Lake," Stryker said, his voice carrying the confidence of a man who believed he held all the cards. "I've been expecting you."
The psychic assault that followed was unlike anything they'd experienced. Jason's enhanced abilities reached out to touch each of their minds, seeking to turn them against each other. Images flashed—the X-Men as enemies, Xavier as a tyrant, mutants as monsters that needed to be destroyed.
"Fight it!" Ash commanded, his Aura blazing as he resisted the mental intrusion. "It's not real!"
But the assault was too strong, too coordinated. One by one, the team members began to falter, their minds clouded by Jason's psychic manipulation. It was then that Magneto acted with characteristic decisiveness.
Metal fragments flew through the air with lethal precision, striking William Stryker before he could react. The old man collapsed, his life's work ending in a spray of blood and twisted metal.
"He was a monster," Magneto said simply, his voice carrying no emotion. "And monsters don't deserve mercy."
But Jason's psychic assault continued even without his father's guidance. The facility's systems began to fail, and a deep rumbling indicated that something catastrophic was about to happen.
"The dam," Scott realized, his tactical mind cutting through the psychic interference. "He's going to blow the dam!"
Water began to pour through growing fissures in the facility's walls. The complex was flooding, and they had minutes before the entire installation would be underwater.
"Everyone out!" Storm commanded, her leadership instincts overriding the psychic assault. "To the surface!"
But as they reached the facility's upper levels, the flood waters were already rising. The escape route was cut off, and the aircraft Hank sent as backup was too far away to reach in time.
"I can hold it back," Jean said, her eyes beginning to glow with power. "Get everyone to safety."
"Jean, no!" Scott reached for her, but she was already moving toward the rising water.
"I'm strong enough," she said, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo. "I can—"
She never finished the sentence. Ash's Aura-enhanced strike hit her at the base of the skull, a precise blow that sent her into unconsciousness without permanent damage. Scott caught her falling form, his face a mask of shock and fury.
"What the hell—" Scott began.
"She doesn't die today," Ash said, his voice carrying absolute finality. "Nobody does."
Without another word, Ash stepped forward to face the flood. His Aura blazed around him like a second skin, creating a barrier against the rushing water. But the pressure was enormous, and he could feel his power beginning to crack under the strain.
"Pikachu! Pupitar! Corviknight! Charmeleon! Honedge!" he called, his voice strained with effort. "I need you all!"
His Pokémon materialized around him, their own protective barriers adding to his. Pikachu's electricity crackled over the Aura dome, while Pupitar's Rock-type energy reinforced the structure. Corviknight's steel-hard body provided additional support, and Charmeleon's flames evaporated the water that managed to seep through.
But it wasn't enough. The dam had been completely breached, and millions of gallons of water were pouring through the facility. Ash's Aura flickered, and cracks appeared in the protective dome.
"I can't hold it!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of rushing water. "The pressure's too much!"
Above him, the rest of the team was fighting their own battle. Magneto's power was keeping their aircraft stable, but the weight of the rescued mutants was making it difficult to achieve lift-off. Storm's weather powers were being overwhelmed by the sheer volume of water.
"Come on!" Ash shouted, pushing his Aura to its absolute limits. "Come on!"
His Pokémon pressed closer, their own barriers beginning to buckle under the strain. Through their shared Aura link, Ash could feel their determination, their absolute refusal to let their trainer face this alone. But even their combined might wasn't enough.
That's when it happened.
One of his Pokéballs opened on its own, releasing a creature that had been dormant for most of their journey. Magikarp emerged in a flash of light, its golden scales catching the emergency lighting as it floated in the rising water.
The Shiny Pokémon looked up at Ash with ancient eyes, and for a moment, the chaos around them seemed to pause. Here was a creature that had been dismissed, overlooked, considered weak by those who didn't understand its true nature.
"Magikarp?" Ash whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of water.
The Fish Pokémon's response was to begin glowing with an evolution light so bright it turned the flood waters into liquid gold. The transformation was unlike anything Ash had ever witnessed—not just a change in form, but an awakening of something primal and powerful.
"What the hell is that light?" Logan growled, pressing his face against the aircraft's window. The golden radiance below was so intense it hurt to look at directly.
Storm felt her connection to the weather patterns around them shift dramatically. "The atmospheric pressure... it's changing. Something powerful is awakening down there."
"Charles, are you sensing this?" Scott asked, his voice tight with concern as he maintained their holding pattern above the facility. "Should we go back for them?"
Professor Xavier's eyes were wide behind his glasses, his telepathic abilities overwhelmed by the sheer psychic energy emanating from the transformation. "Wait," he said, raising a hand. "It's not just physical change. I can sense the creature's consciousness expanding, becoming something far more complex than before. They're not in danger—it's becoming something more."
The light grew brighter, more intense, until it seemed to fill the entire facility. The water itself began to react, swirling and churning as if responding to some cosmic force. The sound was indescribable—like the birth of a star, like the first storm, like the ocean itself crying out in recognition.
And then, from the golden radiance, emerged something magnificent and terrible.
Gyarados.
But not just any Gyarados—this was a Shiny, its scales gleaming like radiant crimson, its eyes blazing with the fury of a creature that had just discovered its true power. The Sea Serpent Pokémon was massive, its serpentine form coiling through the flooded facility with predatory grace.
"Mein Gott," Kurt whispered, his yellow eyes wide with wonder. "Is that... is that the same small fish creature from before?"
Logan's enhanced senses were overwhelmed by the creature's presence. "The scent... it's the same, but different. Like it's become something ancient and powerful."
Storm felt a kinship with the creature's command over the elements. "Look at how it controls the water. It's not just brute force—there's intelligence behind every movement."
"The transformation is complete," Professor Xavier observed, his telepathic abilities picking up the creature's emotions. "I can sense its loyalty to the boy, but also something else... a fierce protectiveness that runs deeper than instinct."
Its roar shook the very ground, a sound that spoke of ancient power and barely contained rage. The newly evolved Pokémon's eyes fixed on the flood waters that threatened its trainer, and its fury was magnificent to behold.
"Gyarados," Ash breathed, his Aura barrier flickering as he stared at his transformed partner. "I need you to—"
The Sea Serpent Pokémon's response was immediate and devastating. Its massive form coiled upward, and it unleashed a combination of Twister and Hurricane that defied natural law. Twin waterspouts formed from its body, drawing up the flood waters with incredible force. The Hurricane attack created a vortex that funneled the water away from the them and back toward the lake.
"The water levels are dropping!" Scott called out, keeping the aircraft in position above the facility. "Whatever that creature is doing, it's working!"
Ororo felt the atmospheric disturbance as the creature manipulated the weather itself. "It's not just moving water—it's controlling the very air currents. The precision required for such control..."
"We need to be ready to extract them once the water recedes," Professor Xavier said, his mind reaching out to assess the situation below.
But it was more than just raw power—it was control. Gyarados manipulated the water with surgical precision, creating corridors of safety while redirecting the flood away from the jet. The creature that had once been considered the weakest was now demonstrating power that almost rivaled legendary Pokémon.
Working together, Ash and Gyarados created a stable passage that allowed the aircraft to descend and extract them. The Shiny Gyarados coiled protectively around its trainer, its crimson scales reflecting the emergency lights as it held back millions of gallons of water through sheer force of will.
"Now! We can reach them now!" Scott called out, bringing the aircraft down through the corridor of safety that Gyarados had created.
"Did we...?" Ash asked weakly, his Aura finally giving out as he collapsed to his knees.
The response came through their newfound bond—a wave of fierce protectiveness and absolute loyalty. Gyarados had evolved not just in body, but in purpose. It had found its true calling as the guardian of something precious.
Above them, the aircraft banked toward Xavier's Mansion, its cargo of rescued mutants secure. The war against the experimentation facilities was over, but the war for mutant rights was just beginning.
As the aircraft rose higher into the evening sky, carrying the exhausted but rescued mutants toward safety, a magnificent sight unfolded beside them. The red shiny Gyarados, its golden scales now gleaming crimson in the setting sun, rose from the flooded facility with powerful undulations of its serpentine form.
"It's following us," Kurt observed with wonder, watching through the aircraft's window as the massive Sea Serpent Pokémon flew alongside them with surprising grace.
"Flying serpent," Logan muttered, though there was respect in his voice. "Never thought I'd see the day."
The red Gyarados maintained its position beside the aircraft, its ancient eyes occasionally glancing toward the window where Ash lay unconscious, wrapped in emergency blankets. Even in its trainer's unconscious state, the creature's vigil continued, a guardian ensuring safe passage through the darkening sky.
Storm felt a profound respect for the creature's dedication. "In all my years of communion with the natural world, I've never witnessed such loyalty. It's not just following—it's escorting us home."
The red Gyarados continued its aerial escort until Xavier's Mansion came into view, its golden spires catching the last light of day. Only then did the magnificent creature bank away with a final, resonant roar that echoed across the grounds—a sound of triumph, of loyalty fulfilled, and of a bond that would endure beyond any trial.
__________________________________________________________________________________
A.N. Another huge Chapter, will probably take a small break, upload smaller chapters for few days. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you find any inconsistencies, let me know, as the proofreader I use can miss small details sometimes if the chapter is more than 2k words.
REVIEWS PEOPLE! RATE THIS BOOK SO IT CAN AT LEAST HAVE AN OFFICIAL RATING!!!
A stone of power, small but bright,Can help our tale take fearless flight.If you believe this world should grow,Then gift a stone and let it show.