ENTERING THE CIRCLE
The pearl doors sealed behind them with a deep, resonant thrum — the sound of pressure settling, of old magic locking into place. The amphitheater's light dimmed, soft blue giving way to deeper, colder shades befitting a council of war.
The X-Periments stood together at the threshold, seven figures forged in secrecy, now facing the leaders of a broken world.
A dozen sets of eyes watched them.
Judging.
Measuring.
Not hostile — but unmistakably wary.
None of these people had expected new mutants to walk into Atlantis.
No one had anticipated hybrids built in Sinister's shadow.
And certainly no one had known they existed until this moment.
Cable stepped closer to the war table, arms crossed over his chest. The table's holographic projections cast fractured blue across the scars on his face.
"Before we do anything else," Cable said, voice gravel and command,
"We need to know who — and what — you are."
Magneto stood beside him, posture straight as iron forged in gravity's heart. But where Cable spoke like a soldier, Magneto's power was quieter, heavier — like the weight of the world was a mantle he'd worn too long.
His gaze settled on Alloy.
"You," Magneto said, "carry the resonance of my bloodline."
Alloy stiffened.
The magnetic pull between them was palpable — like two opposing poles recognizing one another against their will. Alloy's skin flickered with a faint steel shimmer; Magneto's aura rippled in response.
"Explain yourself," Magneto said. Not a threat. A demand carved from certainty.
Alloy swallowed. "We woke up yesterday. In Sinister's lab. That's… all we know."
The room rustled.
Domino raised a brow. "Yesterday?"
Darwin blinked slowly. "That explains the… rawness."
Bul muttered under his breath. "Raw? We're standing right here."
Namor stepped forward, sea-silver eyes narrowed in scrutiny. Unlike Magneto and Cable, Namor did not mask his presence. He moved with a sovereign's arrogance — and earned it.
"Sinister's creations have brought ruin to Atlantis before," Namor said. "You'll forgive my lack of enthusiasm."
Shade bowed her head slightly — a gesture of respect. "We understand. We didn't choose to be made."
Namor's expression didn't soften, but he acknowledged her reply with a subtle incline of his head.
Elle stepped forward, calm but unyielding.
"We're not Sinister," she said. "We don't know why he created us. But we're here now. And we want to help."
Several Resistance members exchanged looks — surprised at the combination of strength and sincerity in her voice.
Firestar whispered, "That one carries the air."
Cable's glowing eye flared as it scanned her. "Weather signatures… elemental traces… interesting."
Elle held his gaze steadily.
"We survived our first Reaper encounter because we could adapt," she said. "We're not claiming anything beyond that."
Stryke spoke next, tone even, professional.
"We're not asking for trust. Just a chance to contribute."
Magneto let silence hang for a long moment.
The kind of silence that made the ocean seem to hold its breath.
Finally, he addressed the group as a whole:
"You say you were created yesterday. That you've had one encounter with the Reapers. That Sinister abandoned you — or died before he could use you."
He paced slowly around them, cloak brushing the marble floor.
"You are unknown. Untested. Unproven. And yet…"
He stopped beside Alloy again, senses tracing invisible lines of power.
"…you are mutants. All of you. No matter the method of your making."
Namor's voice cut in like a trident through water.
"Being mutants does not make them allies."
"Nor enemies," Magneto countered.
The tension between them crackled like lightning inside the dome.
Vex shifted uneasily. Surge cracked his knuckles. Shade watched everything with quiet precision.
Cable finally raised a hand.
"That's enough. They came to us. They didn't run. They didn't hide."
He looked at the X-Periments directly.
"And they didn't attack."
Stryke nodded, grateful for the clarity in Cable's approach.
"We're not here to cause trouble," Stryke said. "We came because we need information. And because Vex—"
But he stopped himself.
Vex's Atlantean flare earlier wasn't something they fully understood yet.
Magneto's eyes flickered — he sensed the hesitation. Namor noticed too.
But neither pressed.
Instead, Namor gestured toward the rising war table at the center. The holographic maps brightened, showing the cracked surface world in fractal detail.
"If you are here to understand the world," Namor said, "then step forward. This is the last truth we have to give."
Stryke inhaled.
Looked at his team.
Nodded once.
And the X-Periments stepped deeper into the heart of Atlantis.
Into the circle where wars are decided.
Where the fate of species is measured.
Where strangers become allies…
or threats.
---
THE TIDE OF TRUTH
The seven hybrids stepped onto the central platform, its marble surface warm beneath their feet, humming with Atlantean power. Above them, the dome brightened, illuminating the room in waves of blue-green light that rippled like sunlight through water.
Shade tilted her head. "This whole place… it's alive."
"It is," Manifold said quietly from the outer ring. "Atlantis breathes magic the way we breathe air."
Cable swiped a hand through the holographic interface, bringing the world map into sharp relief. Every continent shimmered — red where Reaper structures dominated, dim where life still clung to existence.
Bul stared at the red blotches across the map. "That's… a lot of 'screwed.'"
Darwin folded his arms. "Accurate summary."
Cable expanded a cluster over Europe — a dense red lattice spreading like a metallic infection.
"This is the Reaper occupation," he said. "Assimilation zones. Extraction pits. Hive clusters."
Surge leaned closer, expression tightening. "How many of these things are out there?"
"Too many," Firestar said softly. "And more every day."
Vex swallowed. "And mutants…?"
Magneto's jaw hardened.
"Mutants," he said, "are the Reapers' priority targets."
Elle's breath hitched. "But why?"
"It is simple," Magneto said. "We are immune."
Namor stepped beside him, expression stern. "Our genomes cannot be rewritten. Our powers cannot be processed. The hive cannot absorb us."
Bul frowned. "So they just… kill everyone who's like us?"
"They try," Domino said. "They don't always succeed."
Shade asked the question quietly: "Who else is immune?"
Cable rotated the map again.
"Not just mutants. Mutates. Enhanced humans. Certain magic-touched beings. Any genome that defies assimilation."
Stryke's voice was measured. "Spider variants. Hulks. Eternals. Inhumans."
Cable nodded. "All immune."
Surge whistled. "So basically anyone who's ever had their DNA messed with."
"Correct," Magneto said.
"And they're all being hunted," Elle murmured.
A heavy silence fell.
The undersea world outside the dome groaned — a distant whale-song echoing through the wards.
Darwin broke the silence. "The Reapers prioritize wiping out unpredictability. Mutants top the list."
"Which means," Shatterstar added, "this war isn't about numbers. It's about control."
Namor lifted his chin. "And they will not control Atlantis."
Vex felt Elle's hand graze hers — grounding her.
"We've only seen them once," Stryke said, "but they didn't try to assimilate us."
Cable's glowing eye narrowed. "Likely because they'd never encountered your genetic structure before."
Shade murmured, "Then as far as they're concerned… we don't exist yet."
"Not until your first real battle," Magneto said. "When that happens, the hive will learn you. Record you. Adapt to you."
Bul grimaced. "Well that sounds like a nightmare."
Firestar nodded. "That's what it was for the X-Men."
Surge cracked his neck. "So mutants tried fighting them before?"
Cable's silence answered the question.
Then Magneto spoke:
"We tried."
The word echoed like a heartbeat through the chamber.
"We failed."
He stepped forward, eyes unreadable.
"The X-Men, the Avengers, the Defenders, Wakandan forces… all challenged the Reapers. Most were assimilated. Some were obliterated. A few escaped."
His gaze drifted across the room.
"To here. To Atlantis."
Elle bowed her head. "I'm sorry."
"You did not do this," Magneto replied.
Shatterstar leaned on his dual blades. "What matters is what we do now."
Namor gestured to the glowing map again. "The Reaper incursion grows each day. Their hive expands. Their towers spread. Their assimilation fields widen."
Shade frowned. "Assimilation fields?"
Darwin answered. "A radius of energy that helps them break down organic matter and rewrite it. They use it to convert captured beings faster."
Bul rubbed his arms. "That's messed up."
"It is war," Namor said simply. "And Atlantis has survived war since before your first surface civilization touched the sand."
That wasn't arrogance.
It was fact.
"And yet," he continued, "even we have limits."
Cable stepped beside him. "Which is why this meeting matters."
His gaze fixed on the X-Periments.
"You woke up yesterday. You fought Reapers once. You barely know yourselves, let alone this world."
Stryke nodded. "True."
"We don't need you to be soldiers," Cable said. "Not yet."
Bul blinked. "We… don't?"
"No," Cable said. "We need to know who you are."
Magneto folded his arms. "Mutants you may be — but you were created, not born. Entirely new variables. Unknown factors."
Namor's voice carried like a blade dragged across marble.
"And Atlantis does not gamble on unknowns."
Surge snorted. "You saying we're a risk?"
Shatterstar answered before Namor could.
"Everyone is a risk."
He stepped closer, eyes sharp.
"Show us who you are."
Stryke blinked. "How?"
Magneto turned toward the war table.
"By telling us what you want."
Silence.
The X-Periments looked at one another.
Vex.
Shade.
Surge.
Bul.
Stryke.
Alloy.
Elle.
Seven people who had existed for barely a day.
Seven forged for a purpose they never agreed to.
Seven asked a question no one had ever given them the chance to answer.
Stryke finally stepped forward.
"We want to live."
Elle followed.
"And we want to help."
Alloy's voice rumbled low. "We want purpose."
Vex's whisper trembled with truth. "We want belonging."
Shade added gently, "We want to understand."
Bul clenched a fist. "We want to fight anything that tries to kill us."
And Surge finished it:
"We want a world worth waking up in."
The words settled over the council like a tide pulling back to reveal the ocean floor — raw and bare and honest.
Cable studied them.
Magneto nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
Namor exhaled — a quiet, resigned acceptance.
"Then," Namor said, stepping closer,
"Atlantis will hear you."
---
THE COUNCIL SPEAKS
For a long moment, no one moved.
The ocean above the dome groaned like an ancient beast turning in its sleep, distant currents pressing against the layered wards. Bioluminescent patterns rippled across the chamber walls, responding to magic and tension alike.
Then Cable stepped forward.
"Since you've told us who you are," he said, "it's time we tell you what you're stepping into."
With a single swipe across the war table, he brought the global projection into focus again—but this time, it wasn't red zones or assimilation clusters. It was faces.
Mutant faces.
Dozens of translucent images rotated around the dais, each one flickering with location data or the word: UNKNOWN.
Darwin's eyes lowered. Firestar inhaled sharply. Magneto's jaw locked.
Shade leaned closer. "These are—?"
"Survivors," Cable confirmed. "The ones we've confirmed. The ones we think still breathe."
He pointed to a cluster near the Mediterranean.
"Fantomex. Alive. Hard to pin down. Naturally."
Another cluster in the Canadian wilderness pulsed faintly.
"Guardian. Snowbird. Possibly Aurora."
Shade blinked. "There are more alive than we thought."
"There are fewer alive than there should be," Cable corrected.
Namor crossed his arms, cloak shifting like a current. "Most who escaped did so because the Reapers could not predict them. Chaos is our ally—ironically."
Magneto's voice dropped low.
"Mutants have survived extermination before."
A beat.
"Never like this."
Elle stepped closer, steady as a pillar despite the enormity displayed before her. "How many strongholds remain?"
Cable enlarged three dim regions on the map.
"Atlantis. Wakanda. Latveria."
Surge raised a brow. "Latveria? Seriously?"
Domino smirked. "Doom's alive. Of course he's alive."
Bul muttered, "Yeah, no way that guy goes down easy."
Darwin nodded. "He shields his kingdom. The Reapers hit the borders and stop. They don't adapt well to magic-tech hybrid fields."
Shade tapped her chin. "So Wakanda uses shielding tech. Latveria uses magic-tech fusion. And Atlantis uses ancient magic."
"Correct," Magneto said. "Three sanctuaries. Three vastly different philosophies. None willing to collapse."
Namor stepped toward the map, flicking his wrist. The projection shifted to Europe, showing a swirling tangle of red and black.
"This," he said, "is the Reaper hive expansion."
The hybrids leaned in.
The hive wasn't random.
It was organized.
Layered.
Precise.
A living engine built across continents.
"They move like a single organism," Namor continued. "A superstructure evolving on a planetary scale."
Vex shivered. "It's like they're building something."
"They are," Firestar whispered. "They're building a cage."
Stryke frowned. "A cage for what?"
Magneto answered.
"For the future."
Every hybrid fell silent.
Magneto lifted a hand and the projection zoomed in on the crimson lattice wrapping around the planet. Its lines weren't random—they formed vast geometric patterns.
Shielding.
Strangling.
Computing.
"They are choking the world," Magneto said. "Repurposing every natural frequency. Every tectonic vibration. Every weather pattern. All energy is rerouted through them."
Elle inhaled sharply. "They're rewriting the atmosphere."
"They're rewriting Earth," Magneto corrected.
Cable stepped into the center of the projection.
"Here's the part you need to hear most," he said, looking at the hybrids directly.
"You are not the goal of the Reapers."
Surge scoffed. "Well good."
"But because you are mutants," Cable continued, "you are obstacles."
The smugness vanished from Surge's face.
"Mutants," Cable said slowly, "are the only genomic variable they cannot convert, dominate, or predict. Therefore—"
"They kill us on sight," Vex finished softly.
"Correct."
Elle's fingers brushed Vex's shoulder in silent reassurance.
Shade's eyes hardened. Alloy's jaw clenched. Bul's fists balled at his sides.
Namor continued:
"The Reapers do not fear you.
They do not hate you.
They do not think of you at all."
His voice echoed through the deep chamber.
"You are errors in their process. Static in their signal. Irregularities that complicate efficiency."
"That," Magneto added, "is why they exterminate."
"And why we fight," Shatterstar said.
Stryke lifted his chin. "What do you want us to do?"
Magneto turned toward the group. For a moment, he looked older than they had ever seen him — worn, but unbroken.
"You have no loyalties yet," he said. "No alliances. No history. The world does not know your names."
Namor stepped beside him.
"Which means," he said, "you can move where others cannot."
Cable nodded.
"But before you go anywhere, before you take any action, before you step onto the surface world again—"
He stepped forward until he stood face-to-face with Stryke.
"—we need to know if you stand with us."
Every heart on the platform seemed to stop.
This wasn't a battlefield.
This was a threshold.
The moment where strangers stop being unknowns
and become something else entirely.
Alloy finally spoke, voice low as rolling iron.
"We're here."
Surge crossed his arms. "And we're not running."
Bul grinned. "We wanna hit something eventually."
Shade bowed her head. "We seek purpose."
Vex exhaled. "We want to belong."
Elle stepped forward, voice soft but solid.
"We want to help."
Stryke looked each leader in the eye.
"We stand with you."
The chamber didn't erupt.
There was no applause.
No cheer.
No triumphant cry.
Just a shift.
A current.
A pull.
As though Atlantis itself recognized a new bond forming.
Namor gave the slightest nod.
Magneto folded his hands behind his back.
Cable turned back to the war table.
"Then," Cable said,
"let's begin."