Stop!
Please, stop!
It hurts... Ahhh!
Kill... I'll kill you!
Pain and screams filled John's mind—needles piercing his skin, blood drawn, and electricity coursing through his body. Over and over again.
"Stop!" John bolted upright, gasping for air, sweat dripping down his face.
He glanced around, disoriented, before rubbing his hands over his face, trying to calm himself.
"Just a dream," he muttered, his voice shaky as he tried to reassure himself.
After losing the Naruto template, John had decided to rest—real rest for the first time in what felt like ages. He'd fallen asleep almost instantly.
Through the window, he noticed the faint light of dawn creeping in.
Grrrr.
The sound of his growling stomach broke the silence, a sharp reminder of his hunger. Reaching into the magical pouch in his pocket, he pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt he'd taken from the facility. Changing into them quickly, he made his way downstairs in search of food.
The breeze, made him feel his freedom real, before he was in hurry to ignore all this.
Walking along, he spotted a man selling hoodies and clothes from a small stand. He stopped, drawn to the display.
A black hoodie with cloud patterns caught his eye. Without a second thought, he picked it up. "This one," he said, paying for it.
He slipped it on right away, pulling the hood over his head.
Just a precaution, he told himself, pulling the hood tighter over his head.
Next, he headed to a nearby food truck he had spotted earlier.
Looking at the line and the generous portions being served, he thought, This should be enough to fill me for now.
He bought two chicken rolls and moved to the side to eat in peace.
As he sat, his gaze wandered to the people around him—laughing, talking, and enjoying their day. Various emotions flickered through him, ones he struggled to suppress: jealousy, anger, hatred. Dark feelings swirled in his chest.
Why? he thought bitterly. Why do they get to live so freely while I… and others like me… suffered so much?
He knew it wasn't fair to think this way, but the memories of torture and pain were fresh. These thoughts came unbidden, clawing their way to the surface.
"Calm down," he muttered to himself, taking deep breaths to steady his racing mind.
I need information, he thought, forcing his focus to shift. He needed to know more about Azi Pharmaceuticals, the people behind it, and their hidden agendas.
His fists clenched as determination replaced the swirling emotions. I won't stop until I get my revenge. He'll feel it too—the fear, the pain, the helplessness. He'll know what it's like.
Next, he set his sights on the most important place—the café. Not for food or drinks, but for information. He needed to make plans: to survive, to seek revenge, and to prepare for the future. All of it required knowledge, and knowledge required access.
But first, he needed to find a café.
"Today's newspaper," he said, paying for a copy. As he unfolded it, the date caught his eye. March 7, 2006.
His heart beat faster for a moment. This is it, he thought. The day I finally gained my freedom.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he approached an old man nearby. "Gramps, do you know where I can find a cyber café?" he asked, his tone casual, though his mind was racing with urgency.
The old man waved a hand. "Left at the next alley," he said, barely looking up.
"Thanks," John replied, heading that way.
Find the place he enters, he noticed most place is already filled, even the corner.
John approached the counter and said, "I need a more private spot."
The boy at the counter glanced up. "That'll cost double for an hour."
"Fine," John said without hesitation. Money wasn't an issue—he still had what he got from the facility and the gacha.
After paying in advance, the boy led him upstairs to a quieter area.
John looked around. The place was mostly empty, with only a few people scattered about. One corner was completely unoccupied.
"This works," John muttered, heading for the empty spot.
,,,,
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division Headquarters, Washington D.C.
Maria Hill walked briskly through the corridor, a tablet in her hand. Her heels echoed lightly against the sleek floors.
Stopping at the director's door, she pressed the button on the wall panel and waited for the light to turn green. Once it did, she stepped inside.
There he was—a familiar figure with a bald head and one sharp eye, seated behind his desk, poring over a stack of documents.
If someone doesn't know him will think he is doing pirate cosplay.
"Director Fury," Maria said again, her tone urgent.
Nick Fury paused his work, his one sharp eye fixing on her, waiting for her to continue.
"The X-Men have returned," Maria said,
Fury's gaze hardened. " From where?"
A few hours ago, the X-Men suddenly left in their jet for North Carolina. Fury was surprised, as they didn't usually leave unless he had made a deal with them or they were going to confront Magneto.But this time, it was different—sudden and uncoordinated.
"North Carolina," Maria says.
Fury tapped a finger on his desk, his mind already running through possibilities. He had instructed Maria to monitor their movements closely before his meeting with the World Security Council—a meeting dominated by heated debates about mutants and their growing influence. Only now had he freed himself from their endless war-focused plans.
"Any intel on why they went there?" Fury asked.
"No, though we have some guesses," Maria said, turning to the large screen in the room. She connected it to her tablet, and an image of a burned facility appeared.
"This facility was discovered today by local authorities, just before the X-Men left. Our team investigated and found it was a laboratory."
She paused before continuing, "It appears experiments were being conducted on mutants. Some recordings have been recovered."
Maria played a video on the screen. It showed a doctor injecting substances into teenagers, their faces pale and filled with fear. Although there's no audio it was clearly seen the begging and shouting.
Fury's eye narrowed as he watched, his expression dark.
*************
Author's pov
Tell me what you think ,does Daenerys have immunity to fire ? or It's mostly that she is immune to her own bonded dragon flames, as for the time she gave birth it's mostly due to magic or ritual . Your thoughts ?
Though I can change it like If mc were to get her template he will be immune to normal flames. Your thoughts?