X-Force: Beyond Omega

The underground prison testing lab was a sprawling maze of sterile corridors, dimly lit by flickering overhead lamps. The walls, reinforced with psionic-resistant alloys, pulsed faintly with the hum of dampening fields designed to suppress the abilities of those contained within. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and sweat, the product of years of relentless experimentation.

David Moreau, after reporting Destiny's prophecy to the Leader, went into the secret lab, his mind still reeling from his encounter with Destiny. Her words gnawed at him, burrowing into the crevices of his mind like a parasite. Was she toying with him, or had she truly glimpsed the inevitable?

On his way, he informed Sugarman of the prophecy.

He pushed the thoughts aside as his gaze swept over the containment cells. Within each one, a mutant lay restrained, their bodies wracked with convulsions as the latest round of genetic modifications took effect. Some screamed, their voices hoarse from days, perhaps weeks, of agony. Others sat in eerie silence, their will all but shattered by the relentless conditioning.

Ten ancient mutants, their origins lost to time, were locked away in the deepest recesses of the facility. Their genetic codes held secrets that could rewrite the very nature of evolution itself, yet they resisted every attempt to mold them. Shackled to massive steel slabs, their bodies twitched under the influence of forced mutation protocols, but their minds remained stubbornly intact. No matter how many times the scientists adjusted the frequencies, altered the serums, or increased the pain threshold, they refused to break.

And then there were the six proto-mutants—beings from an age long before Homo superior became a recognized force in the world. Primitive yet immensely powerful, their cells reacted unpredictably to every experiment, making them both an invaluable resource and an uncontrollable variable.

David approached the main observation deck, where several lab workers flitted between consoles, monitoring vitals and running simulations. A pair of heavily armed Magistrates stood guard, their weapons trained on the cells at all times.

A shuffling noise from behind announced the arrival of Sugarman.

The grotesque scientist grinned, his jagged teeth gleaming in the dim light. His hunched, four-armed frame cast a monstrous shadow against the cold walls. He sidled up beside David, peering into the lab with glee.

"You look troubled, Genegineer," Sugarman sneered, his voice a sickly-sweet mixture of mockery and amusement. "Did the old crone's words get under your skin? She always did have a way of twisting minds before they even realized they were broken."

David exhaled sharply through his nose, refusing to meet Sugarman's eyes. "Her prophecies are vague riddles meant to instill doubt. Nothing more."

Sugarman chuckled, his grotesque features contorting further. "Oh, but doubt is such a delicious thing, isn't it? It gnaws, it festers... it makes men desperate. And desperate men make mistakes."

David ignored the bait. "What is the status of the subjects?"

Sugarman gestured to the observation windows. "The ancients resist, as always. Their mutations are stable, but their minds refuse to be conditioned. Some sort of instinctual resistance, like old-world predators refusing domestication. The proto-mutants are... unpredictable. One moment docile, the next moment their biology shifts in ways we can't begin to comprehend. They're stuck in the evolutionary middle ground, neither past nor future."

David's fingers tapped against the steel railing as he observed the subjects. "Then we escalate. Increase the neurogenic stimulation. If they will not evolve willingly, we will drag them into the future kicking and screaming."

Sugarman's grin widened. "Ah, now there's the ruthless Genegineer I know. But tell me, what if Destiny's words were more than just riddles? What if the fire she spoke of truly comes for us?"

David turned, his expression unreadable. "Then we must ensure that when it arrives… Genosha holds the power to withstand it."

Sugarman let out a guttural chuckle, his jagged teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Oh, this will be fun."

David's gaze returned to the tortured figures beyond the glass. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear. Genosha would either control what was to come… or be destroyed by it.

As they were overseeing the experiments, David received a message from another team, working outside Genosha. After years of excavation, they had successfully unearthed and transported the tomb of En Sabah Nur, the first mutant, the eternal conqueror. Apocalypse.

"You will release Apocalypse and his Horsemen... Nothing can stop the inevitable."

It had been a prophecy. A warning. And now, a reality.

The Genegineer forced himself to steady his breathing. He had no time for superstition. Destiny's foresight was an anomaly—powerful, yes, but still bound by interpretation. The future was not set in stone, not unless they allowed it to be.

Sugarman led the way down a winding corridor, his grotesque grin never wavering. "You should see your face, Moreau," he rasped. "Like a man walking to his own execution. You're not afraid of some old corpse, are you?"

David shot him a glare. "I don't fear the dead. I fear what they leave behind."

They reached a reinforced blast door, thick with overlapping layers of mutation nullifiers, power dampeners, and psychic inhibitors. Every possible safeguard had been deployed.

Sugarman tapped his claws against the control panel, activating the final security sequence. "We've sealed the chamber with the strongest psionic dampeners we have. Whatever's in there, it's not waking up without our say-so."

David exhaled sharply. "Then let's see what we've uncovered."

With a hiss of hydraulics, the blast doors parted, revealing the Tomb of Apocalypse.

The chamber was big, designed to contain forces beyond comprehension. In the center, a towering sarcophagus of obsidian and celestial stone loomed, covered in intricate hieroglyphs. The ancient symbols pulsed faintly, as if still carrying remnants of a forgotten age.

The research team stood at the periphery, watching in nervous silence. The lead scientist, a pale man named Dr. Voss, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

"Genegineer Moreau," Voss said, his voice uneasy. "We have verified the authenticity of the tomb. The inscriptions match known records of En Sabah Nur. But there's something else…"

David stepped forward, inspecting the sarcophagus. "Explain."

Voss hesitated, glancing toward the stone coffin. "The energy readings are… inconsistent. The body inside should be long-decomposed, but our scans indicate cellular activity. Faint, but undeniable. He isn't dead, sir. He's dormant."

David's pulse quickened. Dormant. That was far worse than dead.

Sugarman let out a wheezing chuckle. "So the big bad Apocalypse is just taking a nap? Adorable."

David ignored him. He ran his hand over the inscriptions, deciphering their meaning. Some of the markings spoke of resurrection cycles, of a deep slumber only broken by external forces. This wasn't a burial... it was containment.

"You will release Apocalypse…"

His throat tightened. Destiny had foreseen this moment. But was he walking into a prophecy or merely the illusion of one?

Voss continued, oblivious to David's inner turmoil. "We've activated the highest level of containment. If we decide to proceed with an autopsy, we can ensure he remains sedated indefinitely."

David hesitated. If they could study Apocalypse's DNA and his technology, they could unlock mutant evolution itself. They could reforge Genosha into something greater, beyond the reach of any outside force.

And yet…

Destiny's voice echoed in his mind.

"No chains, no collars, no existence, no twisted programming will save you..."

David exhaled sharply. "Prepare the autopsy chamber," he ordered. "We need to understand exactly what we're dealing with before we make any decisions."

The research team nodded and moved into action.

Sugarman stopped them, "Now, now, now. Don't be hasty, David." He pointed one of his limbs toward the left side of the tomb. "You see the bloody handprints? Let's extract that and see if we can find some DNA first. It's probably Apocalypse's blood traces, well-preserved thanks to the seal. Let's do some tests and check out what we are actually dealing with."

"We don't have time for that," David said, irritated by the unnecessary delay. "We need answers now, not later. We need to know what he is, and how to control him."

"As I said, don't rush to your own death. Destiny's words messed up your mind. Think rationally, Genegineer."

The words stung, but David remained silent. Sugarman was right. Destiny had rattled him.

Sugarman pointed at the tomb, "Look, we already know the answers. It's not a mystery who this guy is or what he can do. Let's get DNA first, then you can wake him up. We all want to see what he can do, but let's not be hasty about it. We are already having a hard time controlling those low-level proto mutants with the lowest awakened genes. Think what we could unleash if we were careless with this guy."

"You are right, Sugarman." David finally agreed.

The lead scientist called out, "Genegineer Moreau, we have successfully extracted a blood sample from the sarcophagus." He held up a vial filled with a strange, viscous liquid. "We are running preliminary tests now."

David nodded. "Proceed with caution."

Sugarman let out a wheezing laugh. "Good. Cool down that brain of yours and perform the tests. I'll stay here and make sure this guy stays asleep."

The lead scientist and David walked out, leaving Sugarman in charge.

Sugarman turned his attention toward the sarcophagus. His eyes glowed with a blue hue...

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