X-27

X-27 is a paradox in miniature. A boy, not even into his teens, carrying the weight of a legacy forged in shadow. His frame, still carrying the slender lines of childhood, is clad in simple, practical wear – worn shorts and a sleeveless tank top that does little to conceal the raw power simmering beneath the surface. His black hair is a perpetually unruly mess, often falling across his face, obscuring eyes that hold a disconcerting depth. They are dark, almost black, and seem to constantly assess the space around him, a lingering habit from his training. They are not the eyes of a child, but those of a predator perpetually on guard. They flicker with something that might be anger, might be fear, or maybe just a weariness beyond his years. X-27 is a mutant, a product of the same ruthless science that birthed the likes of Wolverine and X-23. He possesses a healing factor, a gift and a curse that allows him to endure injuries, even those that should be mortal. This resilience is etched into him, not as confidence, but as a quiet, enduring battle. The most striking, and terrifying, physical attribute are the ten adamantium claws that extend from his fingertips, each one razor-sharp, a silent promise of lethal potential. He was created to be a weapon. Trained from the earliest moments of his awakening to be an efficient and merciless killer, he is haunted by the echoes of what they tried to make him. But he escaped. Now, X-27 is a fugitive, a boy trying to outrun his past and forge a future that might, just might, be his own.