Jenny Becker proved remarkably cooperative during the examination.
Then again, she wasn't some hardened supervillain. Just an ordinary woman whose life had been destroyed by powers she'd never asked for and couldn't control.
While various instruments scanned her transformed body—analyzing genetic structures, mapping neural pathways, measuring residual heat signatures—Norman Osborn arrived with Dr. Helen Cho and Dr. Connors in tow.
"Ben, what's going on?" Norman asked, his expression puzzled as he surveyed the medical bay. "How does an ordinary person suddenly gain superpowers? What would those companies that spent billions of dollars on superpower research without results think about this?"
Ben glanced up from the holographic display showing Jenny's genetic profile, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
"Uncle Norman, isn't that 'company that spent billions of dollars without results' actually yours?"
Norman's expression shifted to mild embarrassment.
The Osborn Corporation had maintained several superpower research departments for decades. Saying they'd achieved nothing was perhaps an exaggeration—after all, the genetically-engineered spider, the Lizard serum, and the Green Goblin formula had all been Osborn products.
But the flaws in each had been catastrophically obvious.
"Don't expose my shortcomings like that," Norman said with rare good humor.
He and Ben had always maintained a strong relationship. Primus Technologies had started with Osborn's financial backing and political connections, after all. That kind of bond didn't fade easily.
Dr. Connors looked between them with mock offense.
"I feel like you're both targeting me specifically with that comment."
The three of them shared a brief laugh before turning their attention to the more serious matter at hand.
Dr. Helen Cho—who'd pioneered the Regeneration Cradle technology and had been granted access to Extremis virus research by Ben—was a certified genius in biological sciences. Her expertise had elevated her to the absolute cutting edge of the field.
She moved closer to Jenny Becker's examination table, her eyes widening as the scan results populated across multiple screens.
"Incredible," she breathed. "Her entire body is carbonized, yet she's still alive? The structural integrity should be completely compromised. She should shatter at the slightest touch."
Her fingers danced across the holographic interface, pulling up detailed cellular scans.
"Even the extreme heat generated by the Extremis virus has its limits," she continued. "Once someone injected with Extremis reaches the point of complete carbonization, they're seconds away from explosive decompensation. Yet she's... stable."
Dr. Connors leaned over the readouts, his scientific curiosity overriding his usual caution.
"Her bodily functions register as completely normal?" He sounded genuinely baffled. "Her eyes can still process visual input? Her tongue retains a sense of taste? How is any of this physiologically possible?"
"Not only can she see," Ben replied, manipulating the holographic display to zoom in on Jenny's face, "she can cry, too."
The enhanced image showed moisture tracking down her charcoal-textured cheeks.
"Those are clearly eye boogers," Dr. Connors retorted automatically.
But even as he said it, he understood the truth. Tears were present—her tear ducts still functioned perfectly. The residual heat radiating from her transformed body simply evaporated the moisture before it could fall, leaving only particulate matter behind.
"Remarkable," he muttered. "What's the functional difference between this and bringing stone to life? Though I suppose I've seen living stone before..."
Korg, the Kronan warrior, came immediately to mind. As did Ben's own Heatblast and Diamondhead transformations—entities that were essentially animated geological formations.
"Look at the—" Dr. Cho caught herself mid-sentence, her cheeks coloring slightly. "Look at the genetic sequencing."
Ben had already begun comparing Jenny Becker's DNA helix structure with baseline human samples. The holographic display showed both spirals rotating side-by-side, and sure enough, there was a difference.
Tiny. Almost negligible.
But definitely there.
"The variation is so minimal it's almost statistically insignificant," Dr. Connors observed, frowning at the data.
In standard biological terms, mice and humans share over ninety percent genetic similarity. The variance between individuals of the same species is typically even smaller.
But after the X-gene activated, this tiny difference became extraordinarily conspicuous. Like a torch blazing in the darkness.
"It's this specific genetic sequence that caused her mutation," Ben confirmed, his mind racing through implications. "I'm calling it the X-gene. The critical questions now are: where did this gene originate? How many people carry it dormant in their bodies? Is it recessive or dominant? What triggers activation?"
A cascade of questions, each more troubling than the last.
But for Ben, the first question was the most crucial: Why had mutant genes suddenly appeared in a world that had never contained mutants before?
Had the universe somehow rebooted without his knowledge? Had reality been rewritten?
Impossible, he thought firmly. Absolutely impossible.
Did these hypothetical reality-warpers really think Alien X was a pushover?
If the universe had undergone any kind of fundamental reboot, Ben would have sensed it at the exact moment of alteration. The Celestialsapien consciousness within his Omnitrix would have registered the disturbance. More importantly, his own existence and memories would have remained unaffected—Alien X's nature placed him outside conventional causality.
"Judging from her symptoms," Norman said, analyzing the situation with his typical strategic mindset, "this gene appears to lie dormant within the body until triggered by some external stimulus. Environmental stress. Emotional trauma. Then it erupts suddenly, without warning."
His expression darkened.
"If there are many people carrying this latent gene, we're looking at a significant public safety crisis."
Dr. Connors nodded gravely.
"Uncontrollable emotional states combined with sudden manifestation of dangerous powers. The potential for irreversible harm is enormous, even when the individual has no malicious intent whatsoever."
Their concerns pointed directly at the fundamental reason mutants faced such persecution in other universes—a pattern Ben recognized from his knowledge of alternate timelines.
Most mutants awakened during adolescence. A developmental period already characterized by emotional instability and poor impulse control.
Teenagers were naturally rebellious, their value systems still forming. Add uncontrolled superpowers to that volatile mix, and the result was predictable tragedy.
Jenny Becker's case proved the pattern. Several people dead because of her awakening, despite her complete lack of malicious intent.
The deaths were still real. The suffering of the victims' families was still genuine.
"Can we identify potential carriers of this gene in advance?" Norman asked. "Screen the population, implement preventive management protocols?"
"The sample size is too small," Ben said, shaking his head with frustration. "We'd need thousands of confirmed cases to establish reliable predictive markers. And even then, the X-gene appears almost completely unpredictable before activation. We can't exactly lock up every teenager in the world 'just in case.' That would make me no better than Hydra."
He paused, considering the deeper implications.
While the emergence of mutants is problematic from a public safety standpoint, Ben is more concerned about why they appeared in the first place. And now that mutants exist in this universe, what about the famous ones? Professor X? Magneto? Do they exist here now?
Ben can confirm that no one named Logan participated in World War II in this timeline. He had checked the historical records thoroughly. So, have the famous X-Men and Brotherhood members simply ceased to exist in this reality? Or did they never exist to begin with?
His thoughts turned into the most dangerous element of mutant lore.
The Phoenix Force.
His spider-sense had been tingling ever since Jenny Becker's incident. Not with immediate danger, but with the sense of vast, approaching consequences.
Almost prophetically, he'd guessed at the truth.
Genesis
At that very moment, in Genesis, white-haired woman unleashed cascading spells.
Powerful magic repelled the White Queen, who'd been pressing her attack with diamond-hard determination.
Charmcaster who'd been an infant had returned to her original adult form. More than that, her time in Genesis had accelerated her magical development exponentially. She now fought Cable's entire team to a standstill.
The White Queen and her companions were visibly surprised by the transformation, struggling to accept how dramatically their supposed "mutant messiah" had changed in such a brief time.
"She's grown so fast," Magik observed, half-crouching on a floating chunk of crystallized spacetime. She watched the White Queen press the attack with calculated strikes. "Grown up in the blink of an eye."
Her brother, Colossus, nodded. His metallic skin gleamed in the ambient dimensional energy that permeated Genesis.
"Of course she has. She still carries remnants of the Phoenix Force within her. She is the vessel chosen by the cosmic firebird. The prophesied hope of all mutantkind."
His voice carried absolute conviction.
"As the messiah, rapid maturation makes perfect sense! It's entirely appropriate!"
But the reality was far simpler than they imagined.
Charmcaster—or rather, Hope had simply used magic to restore her original adult form. A simple transformation spell to undo the accident that had trapped her in infant flesh.
After all, she'd never been a real baby to begin with.
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