Creating Oasis:Mutant Dawn

Inside the church, the sudden arrival of Deadpool caught everyone off guard.

Wolverine—Logan in particular—froze. His instincts screamed at him, but his mind raced. After all, now that his memory had returned, Logan remembered all too well who this red-and-black lunatic truly was.

Wade Wilson.

Once a comrade. Now, a nightmare.

Logan understood better than anyone else what kind of twisted creation stood before them. Wade had once been a promising soldier, injected with Logan's own X-gene as part of the Weapon X experiments. Initially, he had nothing more than heightened self-healing, strength, speed, and combat reflexes. Dangerous, yes—but manageable.

That was before Wilhelm Stryker went completely off the rails.

Driven by ambition, Stryker forcibly fused Cyclops' optic gene and the teleportation gene of a mutant nicknamed "Ghost" into Wade's body. It should have torn him apart.

But Wade survived.

Even worse, Stryker sealed his mouth shut and embedded a neural control chip to eliminate free will. What was left was no longer a man—just a living, breathing, regenerating, teleporting weapon of mass destruction.

Logan shuddered as the memory hit him. That final battle... even Sabretooth had fought by his side, and they had only barely managed to put Deadpool down.

Now here he was again. Whole. Alive. Unstoppable.

And judging by how his severed head had recently grown back after being sliced by Logan's Adamantium claws, Deadpool's regeneration had grown even more terrifying.

"Guys... we're in big trouble," Logan muttered, his voice grim.

The others didn't need him to spell it out.

Phoenix and Cyclops could feel it too—the rising dread, the realization that they were staring down a one-man army.

Deadpool's twin blades flashed as he charged at Phoenix. She didn't have a self-healing gene. If those swords touched her neck—it was over.

Time slowed.

And then—

"Did you morons forget about me?"

A powerful voice rang out from the shattered church doors.

Storm.

Her words were followed immediately by a blinding crack of lightning. Two searing bolts ripped through the air. One arced outside the building, smashing into a shadowy figure creeping toward the camera—Eddie Locke, the reporter filming the entire event.

The second bolt surged straight toward Deadpool.

Adam Robert had expected as much. Since the X-Men were clearly still conscious and fighting, Storm had obviously not been neutralized. That illusion had failed.

But none of that mattered anymore. The battle was now in full swing.

Deadpool, despite his overwhelming power, wasn't foolish. He had no intention of taking a lightning strike head-on. Activating the teleportation gene he'd stolen from Ghost, he attempted to vanish from the battlefield in a blink—his go-to escape plan.

But just as he activated the ability—

A voice rang out, ethereal and commanding:

"Space... imprisoned."

The words rippled like magic, resonating through the air. An unseen force erupted across the church, freezing the very space around it.

Deadpool's eyes widened in alarm.

Teleportation—failed.

He stood there, exposed.

And in that split second of hesitation, the bolt of lightning struck him dead-on. Electricity coursed through his enhanced muscles. His nerves sizzled, and his body jerked involuntarily.

Still, he didn't fall. Hardened by countless battles, Deadpool immediately twisted his torso and sprang backward. His instincts were razor-sharp.

But the attack wasn't over.

"Whiz! Whiz! Whiz!"

A volley of miniature howitzers burst through a hole in the church's roof. They descended like a storm.

And right behind them—Iron Man descended, jet thrusters blazing.

"You know," Tony said dryly, "shooting me with a laser wasn't exactly a warm welcome. Pretty rude for a first meeting."

The howitzers struck Deadpool in rapid succession.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The explosions rocked the church. Debris flew, and Deadpool's battle suit was shredded on impact. Smoke and dust filled the air as his body slammed into the floor, blackened and twitching.

The live audience watching across the globe gasped in horror.

What kind of monster was this?

His face was mutilated. His suit obliterated. His mouth—sewn shut.

And yet, he still moved.

"Goddamn! That's the Weapon X plan?"

"They don't treat people like people!"

"Stryker's a psychopath!"

Anger surged among viewers. Sympathy turned to fury. The exposure of Stryker's inhumane experiments had turned the court of public opinion firmly against him.

But Deadpool didn't care about their outrage.

He had no say in this.

With his teleportation disabled, he could only react.

Phoenix, meanwhile, had seized the moment. She hurled a wall of telekinetic force to keep enemies at bay. Cyclops stepped forward, eyes glowing red. His optic beam surged toward Deadpool.

At the same time, something eerie happened—

Deadpool's eyes glowed red too.

The beam that erupted from his eyes was almost identical, crashing headlong into Cyclops' own blast.

The church filled with blinding red energy as two identical forces clashed.

But the struggle lasted only a few seconds.

Because in that moment, Wolverine had broken free from his fight.

With one feral leap, Logan landed behind Deadpool.

SNIKT.

His Adamantium claws gleamed under the church lights.

With brutal precision, he drove them into Deadpool's back—one into each shoulder blade.

"KRCH!"

Deadpool buckled. Even with his regeneration, the pain was immense. The light faded from his eyes as his concentration broke. Cyclops' beam slammed into his abdomen and sent him flying.

Still, it wasn't over.

Storm pulled a metallic sphere from her belt. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it through the air. It unraveled mid-flight, transforming into glowing silver metal rope laced with electrical energy.

It wound around Deadpool like a living snake, binding him from head to toe.

Sparks danced along the metal.

This wasn't just rope. It was tech fused with lightning—custom equipment designed by Storm herself. Once it latched on, it continuously electrocuted its target into paralysis.

Even for Deadpool, this was suffocating.

But Joseph wasn't done yet.

From above, a soft white glow drifted downward like a beam of moonlight.

It struck Deadpool directly.

Mind Imprisonment.

Another five-ring spell, like the earlier spatial seal.

Deadpool groaned as his mind was suddenly weighed down by invisible chains. Sleep overtook him. Consciousness fled. He staggered, eyes losing focus.

At that moment, he looked up.

And there, standing silently on one of the church beams, was Joseph.

Young. Calm. Untouched by the chaos below.

They locked eyes.

Deadpool couldn't speak, couldn't fight—but he understood. That gaze wasn't meant for him.

It was aimed through him—at someone else entirely.

At Wilhelm Stryker.

"Look closely, Stryker," Joseph's eyes seemed to say. "Mutants have more cards than you think."

Deadpool collapsed.

Wolverine leaned down and sneered in his ear.

"You forgot something, Wade. The X-Men? We're never alone."

He glanced up at Joseph, nodding in silent respect.

"And Joseph alone... is worth an army."

Deadpool heard none of it.

His world faded into black.

All this had taken place in a matter of seconds. A few breaths. A flash of light. And it was over.

Meanwhile, Phoenix stood firm. With a flick of her wrist, the bullets she had suspended earlier zipped through the air—whizzing past Adam Robert and his men and embedding harmlessly into the walls behind them.

"Even now," she said, her voice trembling with barely restrained fury, "you refuse to tell us where Stryker is?"

She hadn't killed anyone.

Not yet.

But the sight of her eyes glowing with cosmic fire made it clear that death had hovered near.

Adam Robert and his men felt it.

Their arms slackened. Their fingers loosened. Their rifles hung limp at their sides.

The last illusion of resistance shattered.

Stryker's grand plan—exposed. His weapon—defeated. His team—paralyzed.

And the only one left untouched, the Death Woman, floated helplessly in mid-air, bound by Phoenix's telekinesis. She couldn't even twitch.

For the briefest moment, Adam Robert understood.

The tide had turned.

And nothing Stryker had left could change that.

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