Deep underground in an X facility hidden beneath a desert mountain, cold lights hummed above a darkened chamber. The room smelled of steel, sweat, and antiseptic. Surveillance monitors lined the wall, each screen flashing with security feeds, bioscans, and encrypted reports. One monitor showed a slow playback of Jason-Mark’s escape. Another, a close-up of his face as he flew off in the Sonic Armor.

A shadow stood before the monitors, unmoving. The man’s face was gaunt, pale — his left eye cybernetic, glowing a soft blue. His presence felt like gravity.

X.

Behind him, a voice echoed in the dim.

“He's adapting faster than expected. You were right about the hybrid brain resisting programming.”

X didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the moment Jason turned to look back at his mother before flying away. That moment — a flicker of emotion. Pain. Betrayal.

“Emotion,” X finally said. “Morality. Weakness.”

The other scientist remained silent. They knew better than to speak unless asked.

X turned away from the screens and walked toward a reinforced door. As it opened, thick mist poured out, revealing a different kind of lab — darker, colder, silent.

Inside stood a pod. And in that pod, submerged in dark fluid, was a young man.

Bare-chested. Muscular. Pale skin. Jet black hair. He looked no older than Jason-Mark, but there was no softness to his face. No hesitation. Only stillness.

X stepped forward.

“Plan B,” he said softly. “Begin the awakening.”

The scientists obeyed.

As the chamber lights flickered red, the pod hissed open. Fluid drained. Electrodes detached.

The boy inside stepped out, dripping wet, eyes opening slowly — glowing faint violet.

“Subject MX-02,” a voice said over the intercom. “Codename: Max.”

Max dropped to one knee, then rose.

“Status: Fully online.”

Max was not raised like Jason.

He was not read bedtime stories. He did not learn love, laughter, or friendship. There was no mother figure. No warmth.

He was trained.

His every waking hour was a drill. His only books were combat manuals. His only teachers were war simulations. His lullabies were the screams of VR enemies. When he faltered, he was punished. When he succeeded, he was made to push harder.

He wasn’t just a clone. He was a weapon.

Unlike Jason, who received only a stabilizing dose of the serum — just enough to heal and endure the armor — Max was saturated with it. Triple the dose. His body mutated perfectly to its design. Superhuman strength, speed, reaction time. Pain thresholds far beyond human limits.

If Jason was built to adapt…

Max was built to conquer.

X stood before him, looking up into Max’s unreadable face.

“Your brother has gone rogue,” he said. “He took the armor.”

Max blinked once. “I am to retrieve it?”

“You are to eliminate him,” X replied coldly. “And bring back the armor.”

Max said nothing. He turned to a new pod beside him — this one shaped like a body casing.

A black armor unlike Jason’s blue. Sleeker. Sharper. Etched with crimson veins of alien tech. It shimmered like oil over fire. The reverse-engineered version of the Sonic Armor — modified for lethal utility.

It latched onto Max with sharp hisses. The back snapped closed. Spikes curled at the shoulders. The helmet clicked over his face and sealed.

“Max,” X said again, “Do you understand who he is?”

“My genetic template,” Max replied through the helmet voice filter. “My brother.”

“And if he resists?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Then he is the enemy.”

Elsewhere, across the city, Jason-Mark lay asleep on a mattress in Bendo’s apartment. He had barely closed his eyes in the last 24 hours. His body still ached from the injections, from the armor integration, from the escape.

But deeper than the pain — was the confusion.

The betrayal.

He still heard her voice. His mother. Explaining everything like it was science. Like he was just… a thing.

A tool.

He didn’t even know what was real anymore.

A knock on the window made him stir. Bendo pushed it open and walked in from the fire escape, holding two drinks.

“Bad dreams?” Bendo asked.

Jason sat up. “More like memories.”

“You’re safe here, you know.”

“I used to think I was human,” Jason muttered. “Now I’m wondering if I was ever anything but a weapon.”

Bendo sat next to him. “You’ve got choices now. That makes you human enough.”

Before Jason could respond — a high-pitched screech filled the air.

Glass shattered.

The wall behind them exploded inward.

A black blur flew through the smoke.

Jason’s eyes widened. His armor responded instantly, latching onto his skin with a voice:

“Sonic Armor Online.”

Max landed in the middle of the room, steam rising from his armor.

Jason’s HUD lit up:
IDENTITY: UNKNOWN. DNA MATCH: 99.8%. STATUS: HOSTILE.

“What the hell—” Bendo shouted.

Max spoke, voice calm and cold through his helmet.

“Return the armor. Come with me.”

Jason stepped forward. “Who are you?”

The helmet unmasked, revealing the same face.

His face.

Max tilted his head. “I’m what you could’ve been. If you weren’t raised to be weak.”

Without warning, Max lunged.

Jason barely raised a shield in time as Max’s punch launched him through the wall.

They crashed into the alleyway.

The shockwave shattered parked cars.

Jason rolled to his feet. “You’re a clone?”

“I’m your brother,” Max said, already charging again.

Their fists collided — Sonic energy sparked between them.

Jason was fast.

Max was faster.

A knee to the ribs. A slash to the side. Jason activated his boosters and leapt away — but Max followed, spinning mid-air and kicking him into the ground.

Bendo jumped in, magnetic force pushing Max back.

But Max twisted in the air, redirected the pull, and slammed Bendo into the hood of a car.

Jason crawled up, coughing. “Why are you doing this?”

Max’s face showed no emotion. “Because I was made to.”

He raised his hand — energy pulsing at the fingertips.

Then a voice cried out.

Amy.

She screamed.

A wave of pure sonic energy blasted Max into a dumpster.

She ran to Jason, her eyes glowing with sound.

“You okay?”

Jason looked up, blood on his lips.

“We’re gonna need to hit harder.”