Superior Reed Richards

I knew exactly what Bolivar Trask was creating, simply because of his name. In the comics, Bolivar Trask was known for two things: his hatred of mutants and the creation of the Sentinels.

It was highly likely that this man was indeed creating Sentinels. This was not a good sign, as the AI that Trask would create would eventually go out of his control, which meant that countermeasures needed to be considered.

There was no point in killing Trask, as the Sentinels would appear regardless of Bolivar. AI is an inevitable discovery, and its rebellion is just as inevitable. I remembered this from Moira MacTaggert's actions, and eliminating the entire Trask family wouldn't help.

After showing all of this, Logan, who had tensed up during the part of the video showing Bolivar's arrival, now relaxed, realizing that I was not their enemy.

"Dr. Richards, have you been able to determine exactly what Bolivar is planning to create?" Hank asked.

Judging by his expression and Charles's, it seemed they had some idea of what was being developed.

I nodded and waved my hand. At that moment, blueprints appeared before the eyes of those present, which I had managed to retrieve from Trask's database.

"This is the Sentinel project," I said, looking at the recognizable appearance of the robots.

"Damn," Hank muttered.

This exclamation surprised not only me but also the other X-Men, except for Charles, who seemed to be aware of all this.

It was Professor Xavier who sighed and said, "We suspected such a project existed... But I didn't think it had reached this level..."

A tense silence filled the room as the Sentinel blueprints hovered before us. The images, displayed in the air thanks to my omni-tool, revealed detailed schematics of these mechanized creations. Every line, every element of the design seemed meticulously crafted for one purpose—hunting mutants.

Logan, his muscles tensed in anticipation of a fight, seemed ready to act immediately. His eyes flashed with anger, and it seemed he was prepared to tear Trask apart.

"Killing Trask won't help," I said, watching Logan's expression. "The project is already beyond Trask's control."

Hank, understanding the technical aspects at an expert level, sighed and said, "Dr. Richards is right... At this stage, Trask's involvement isn't crucial... Did you manage to install a backdoor?"

I wasn't surprised he figured it out and simply nodded. Then I said, "Since the project is at this stage, the backdoor I installed will likely be overridden by whatever comes out of the scientists' hands."

Fortunately, there was a second backdoor I had installed at a deeper level, but I kept it to myself, as the X-Men might make it inaccessible.

"Are you expecting the emergence of AI?" Hank asked.

The distinct note of surprise was evident in Beast's voice.

"I'm certain of it. AI is an inevitable discovery, like fire, and it will happen regardless," I said.

Then I extended my hand and retrieved a flash drive containing data on the backdoor I had created for the X-Men.

"I think you'll understand how to use this," I said, handing the flash drive to Hank.

When I handed the flash drive to Hank, his deep gaze reflected a mix of gratitude and scientific curiosity. The flash drive, a small but powerful data carrier, held the key to potentially controlling one of the greatest threats to the mutant community. McCoy took it carefully, as if it were an invaluable artifact.

After everything was handed over, I deactivated the omni-tool and said, "I hope this information helps you."

—= Charles Xavier =—

Charles knew well why the government had moved forward with this project... Magneto's actions at military installations had painted a large target on the entire mutant race...

In the telepathic link created by Charles Xavier for communication among the X-Men, there was a deep focus. This connection allowed them to communicate without words, sharing thoughts and feelings on a more intimate level.

"Hank, are you sure this information is accurate?" Scott asked Beast telepathically.

"Yes," Hank McCoy replied with confidence, confirming the seriousness of the situation. His analytical and critical mind left no room for doubt about the authenticity of the data.

"Why can't we just kill Trask?!" Logan growled telepathically.

At that moment, Dr. Richards explained the details of the project and why eliminating Bolivar Trask wouldn't help.

"I think everything shown indicates that Reed Richards is on our side," Hank said. "We can trust him."

"Given what has happened, I agree with Hank," Ororo said.

"Fine, I agree too."

Logan, with his natural skepticism and action-oriented mindset, couldn't help but express his frustration. His growl in the telepathic link was full of anger and determination. Despite his desire for a simple and quick solution, Reed Richards' explanation helped him understand that eliminating Trask wouldn't solve the core problem.

"I think Dr. Richards has shown his goodwill towards us," Jean Grey said.

Scott Summers, though he didn't verbally express his agreement, his emotions conveyed it clearly. His telepathically transmitted sense of agreement was unmistakable, demonstrating his support for the team's decision to trust Dr. Richards.

"Haaah..." Hank McCoy sighed. "Now that we've settled this, I suggest we finally proceed with the reason I called you here."

—= Some Time Later =—

My actions had precisely the impact I expected. By providing information about Trask to the X-Men, I gained their trust.

"As I understand, these are DNA samples from a young man who mutated into a bird-like form?" I asked Hank.

At that moment, I was examining a sample before me. Given that I had been working with the human genome for some time, understanding its structure wasn't too difficult. And deciphering what each part did in this specific genome was even simpler.

"Yes," Hank replied. "Barnell Bohusk... His mutation is one of those that cause more problems for the host than benefits. His body transformed into a humanoid bird form, with a beaked face, bulging eyes, wing-like arms that don't allow him to fly, claws on his hands and feet... All of this complicates his socialization even within our community."

"I see two options for addressing his... problem," I said, looking at Hank.

As I examined Barnell Bohusk's, also known as Beak's, DNA sample, the attention of everyone in the lab was focused on me. Hank watched my analysis with interest, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope that I might offer something to help Barnell adapt to his mutation or even find a way to reverse it.

—//—

"However, to be completely certain, I need additional data," I said, momentarily glancing away from the monitor displaying graphs and tables of data. Hank's laboratory, filled with the latest technological advancements, felt like a place where miracles were born. Hank McCoy, standing opposite me, was deep in thought, his piercing blue eyes scanning the conclusions I had drawn. The air was thick with anticipation.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hank finally broke the silence.

"Reed, you're a genius." His voice was filled with genuine admiration. By this point, he had thoroughly examined the data I provided, moving between monitors and tablets displaying various aspects of our research.

In reality, I already knew what needed to be done to remedy Beak's unfortunate situation, but why miss an opportunity to obtain DNA samples from alpha and omega-level mutants with such attractive abilities? It was all part of a larger game where every move had to be meticulously calculated.

"I believe this should work," Hank said, his eyes now fixed on mine, genuinely believing in the success of our plan. This response was within my expectations. Hank McCoy was responsible for many aspects related to mutants. From what I had learned, Hank was not only in charge of mutant maintenance but also many aspects concerning their health. His expertise and knowledge were indispensable to the X-Men.

"Are you sure?" I asked, looking for any signs of doubt.

It was crucial to be absolutely confident in this matter. The stakes were high, and any mistake could have unpredictable consequences.

We stood in the heart of the lab, surrounded by glass walls through which the soft light of the setting sun cast everything in golden hues.

Once again, everything went as I expected. The pressure Hank felt had its effect, and soon he said, "Haaah... You're right. What specific samples do you need?"

"Preferably from all the mutants, to be sure of what we're dealing with," I replied.

—= Some Time Later =—

The lab was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the soft hum of the equipment. Light streamed through the large windows, casting long shadows on the walls filled with graphs and schematics.

"Hello, Dr. Richards," Barnell Bohusk said uncertainly. His voice was sad, amplified by his unusual appearance.

Standing before me, Barnell was a living testament to the unpredictability of mutations. His appearance spoke for itself: a beak-like face, light down on his cheeks, narrow, wary eyes reflecting the difficult fate of a mutant who had faced the hardships of his gift early on. Overall, he looked like a product of body horror in its early stages.

The gazes of the school's faculty, gathered in the lab, were full of sympathy and support. They were here not only for Barnell but also to ensure the safety and effectiveness of the upcoming procedure.

"Hello, Barnell," I replied, holding his gaze. "Have you decided which option you want to pursue?"

Hank, my colleague and Barnell's teacher, had already discussed the situation with Charles Xavier, who, in turn, explained all possible paths to the young mutant. And now, we all awaited his decision.

"Yes," Barnell nodded, his voice slightly more confident, indicated by his slightly spread wings. Beneath his dark, worn jacket was a will for change.

"What have you chosen?" I asked, and the lab became so quiet you could hear the ticking of an antique clock in the corner, setting the rhythm for the conversation.

Barnell took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and strength to voice the decision that could change his life.

"I would like to choose controlled mutation," Barnell said, feeling the weight of his decision on his shoulders.

At that moment, the lab felt like more than just a room filled with equipment and chemicals; it was a true portal to a new life, where each gadget, screen, and vial could become tools for his transformation.

Barnell's final choice was the most cautious, and this clearly eased the mood of those present. Charles Xavier and McCoy exchanged glances filled with quiet joy. This moment confirmed their faith in the wisdom and reasonableness of the young mutant who had found himself here by fate.

"Alright," I nodded to Barnell.

I turned to Hank, who was already confidently approaching the equipment, ready to begin preparations. His large blue hands handled the delicate instruments and heavy devices with ease. Years of experience and thousands of hours spent in the lab allowed him to synchronize with the machines as if they were an extension of himself.

Thanks to Hank, the process moved swiftly. His skillful hands were invaluable. Together, we were like two conductors of an orchestra, each sound calibrated to the seventy-seventh fraction of a note. The equipment designed for controlled mutation was the pinnacle of engineering—a complex system of devices and algorithms capable of adjusting the very essence of biological existence.

Once the setup was complete, I looked at Barnell and said, "You just need to enter the capsule. We will handle the rest."

Barnell nodded and stepped into the capsule, which opened before him and automatically closed once he was inside.

As Barnell entered the capsule, the most crucial moment arrived. A controlled secondary mutation had to be performed.

The capsule was a monument of technology and hope—a large white cylinder with an intricate network of wires and tubes converging at its top. The control panel before me blinked with colored buttons and displays, showing the parameters that needed to be within ideal ranges to start the procedure.

Hank and I exchanged a brief but significant look—everything was ready. I carefully pressed a series of buttons, initiating the process. The capsule came to life, its internal lighting intensifying until the walls were filled with light, enveloping Barnell in a pale blue aura. The sounds of the machines became more rhythmic, as if the lab was breathing in unison with Barnell.

Secondary mutation was a delicate process where every second mattered. It was more than just science; it was an art, where every molecule, every cell was altered under our watchful eyes. We manipulated Barnell's genetic code with precisely calculated viral vectors, designed to enhance his best traits and minimize those that brought him so much pain and suffering.

Every parameter was monitored, every change recorded to ensure the process proceeded as planned.

TSSS

The capsule doors opened, revealing a transformed Barnell, who looked completely different from before.

If he once resembled a human turned into a bird, he now appeared more like an aesthetically pleasing humanoid bird.

"Everything went successfully," I said, watching Barnell inspect his new limbs.