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Nolan stood before Experiment Subject No. 1, whose mouth had been stitched shut.
Around him, lab assistants continued to test and log the subject's regenerative capabilities, comparing them to the detailed data previously collected from Logan.
"Sir, epidermal regeneration clocks in at roughly five hundred times that of an average human…" one assistant reported.
The Black volunteer stared in disbelief as a strip of skin was peeled from his body. His agony was ignored in favor of metrics.
"Muscle regeneration is at one thousand times baseline…"
"Bone density recovery is measuring at two thousand times normal!"
One by one, the numbers rolled in each data point meticulously logged.
Strapped to the adjacent table, Logan listened to the figures being rattled off his expression hardening with every word. For the first time, real doubt crept in.
He was the best there was at what he did. But what if even that wasn't enough to escape this man?
He'd survived being used as a weapon by Stryker. Back then, at least he had a function he was meant to be unleashed. That was how he broke free.
But Nolan?
He didn't want a weapon. He wanted a research specimen.
And specimens never go free.
Subject No. 1's initial excitement over gaining superhuman powers had long since vanished. Now, with his healing factor fully active, the assistants cut deeper, harder, without anesthesia delighting in the fact that he couldn't die.
The man writhed and thrashed as much as he could, reduced to guttural sobs by the pain. If he began to pass out, they injected stimulants to keep him conscious. They wanted real-time data. No gaps.
Nolan compared the results with Logan's metrics and quickly furrowed his brow. While this subject wasn't a full match, the numbers were… impressive.
The healing factor wasn't as potent as Logan's no surprise, since Nolan had used genetic grafting instead of full integration.
But even so, muscle regeneration reached 70% of Logan's, and bone recovery up to 80%.
"Recheck Logan. Same location," Nolan ordered.
Logan, who had been watching the tests from his table, blinked.
"Wait, what?" Before he could react, the assistants had already moved in.
"You sick freak!" Logan growled, teeth clenched. "You think Xavier's gonna let this slide?"
"He's dead," Nolan said casually, flipping through more data. "Well, sort of. Word is he's been revived inside his comatose twin. But regaining full power? That'll take time. More than I need."
Logan went silent. Nolan's awareness of mutant affairs was alarmingly accurate. Even details only whispered about in underground channels he knew them.
"Magneto too," Nolan continued, "stripped of power, pumped full of gene inhibitors. Last I heard, he's a cripple hiding in a hole somewhere. If I could locate him, I'd have him on a slab next to you."
Logan glared but said nothing. The pain from the fresh tissue harvest was nothing compared to the dread pooling in his gut.
Nolan's eyes scanned deeper into the test logs. "Adamantium…"
The unique alloy bonded to Logan's bones made them virtually indestructible but it was a problem.
Unlike soft tissue samples, bones couldn't be harvested, so Nolan used a vibranium-tipped drill to extract a marrow core instead.
"Turns out adamantium isn't as perfect as it looks," Nolan muttered. He glanced at Logan. "Tell me feel like you're getting older? Slower to recover?"
Logan didn't answer, but his expression tightened.
"This metal in your bones it's alive, in a sense. Integrated with your healing factor. The longer it's there, the more it suppresses your regenerative potential."
Nolan tapped a tablet. "At first, it was fine. But over the years? Your healing slows. Your body ages. Eventually, your healing factor fails and then you die."
Logan froze.
Nolan continued, voice almost sympathetic. "There's a tradeoff. The metal's been shielding your brain. That's why you're not a vegetable from all the head trauma. But without the healing factor? It turns into your coffin."
Logan's mind reeled. 'How did this man know about my memory loss?'
Meanwhile, Subject No. 1 who'd been enduring constant tissue removal started to show signs of decline.
"His muscle regeneration is slowing!" one assistant called out.
"By a factor of twenty," another confirmed.
The subject was pale, eyes sunken, pupils dilated. Sweat drenched his brow. Nolan ordered a full biometric scan.
"Vitals crashing," a tech read off. "Blood sugar, pressure, sodium, and potassium levels are all plummeting. Cell membranes rupturing. Rapid onset systemic apoptosis."
Apoptosis cellular suicide.
"Shut it down?" one assistant asked cautiously. They'd finally made a working prototype shouldn't they preserve it?
"No," Nolan said coldly. "I need to know the limits. Push it."
The lab fell silent.
"HMMMMMM!!!!"
They all watched as Subject No. 1's body literally melted down tissues collapsing, structure dissolving into a liquefied mess.
The remains were promptly shoveled into an incinerator.
Nolan reviewed the final data, impassively.
"Test the remaining five. I want full comparisons. I need to know exactly how long a dose of Phoenix Serum can sustain someone and more importantly, how to grant healing without killing the host."
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