Inside the half-ruined church, now filled with slowly dissipating smoke, the operation was being led by none other than Captain Adam Robert—a hardened veteran and Wilhelm Stryker's most trusted subordinate.
A former Navy SEAL, Robert's military credentials were second to none. Years of elite service had molded him into a man of steel: unshakable in combat, ruthless in decision-making, and utterly loyal to his command.
His team—handpicked from special operations—was no less formidable. Each soldier had extensive anti-Mutant combat experience. They were armed with the latest gear and experimental weapons developed specifically to counter Mutant abilities.
Still, Adam Robert had been prepared for resistance. The X-Men weren't just any group of Mutants—they were legends. He had expected a fierce confrontation, perhaps even casualties. And yet…
"It went too smoothly…" he muttered under his breath, squinting through the clearing fog.
They had stormed the church, deployed the special gas—an advanced sleep agent synthesized by Worthin Laboratory. Designed to be thirty times more potent than civilian-grade tranquilizers, the gas could subdue even high-tier Mutants in seconds.
And it had worked.
Too well.
"Not a single struggle?" he whispered, unease twisting in his gut. "Not even from Wolverine?"
Underneath his gas mask, his brow furrowed. Something didn't sit right.
"Boss," came a voice in his earpiece, crackling faintly, "the one Mutant stationed outside tried to interfere, but we took care of it."
Adam Robert relaxed a bit. That was good news. It meant the perimeter was secure. No unexpected reinforcements. No backup plans.
Still…
In front of him, his soldiers moved efficiently. Wearing protective masks, they checked each of the X-Men one by one. They drew syringes filled with suppressant serum and injected the sedated heroes—just in case the gas wore off prematurely. Their caution was born from experience.
"You can never be too careful with Mutants," Robert muttered.
Moments later, one of his men approached.
"Colonel," the soldier reported, "we've completed the sweep. Everyone is unconscious—no sign of additional threats."
"Good," Adam replied, but his tone was curt. "Now link me with Colonel Stryker. He needs to see this for himself."
Pulling a sleek communicator from his utility belt, he initiated the video link. The screen flickered for a second before stabilizing, revealing the stern face of Wilhelm Stryker.
"Adam," Stryker said. "Report."
"Operation successful, Colonel," Adam said with a salute. "The X-Men have been neutralized. However... Professor Charles Xavier did not appear."
Stryker's expression didn't waver. "He didn't need to."
Adam blinked, confused. "Sir?"
"You've done your part. Capturing the X-Men was step one. With them in our hands, it's only a matter of time before Charles shows up. He's too noble to stay hidden while his students suffer."
As Stryker spoke, Adam tilted the camera, scanning the church interior. He let the colonel see the limp bodies of Cyclops, Phoenix, Wolverine, and the others, scattered across the pews and floor.
Stryker nodded in approval. "Good. That's evidence of success. Once we capture Xavier and seize his brainwave amplification device, we'll use Jason's neurofluid to seize control of him."
He paused, eyes gleaming with a sick sort of fervor.
"With that psychic power under our control, we won't need to fight anymore. We'll destroy all Mutants—in one wave. The dream we've worked for… finally realized."
Adam Robert felt a surge of satisfaction at those words. His loyalty to Stryker had always been unwavering. To be part of something that would be etched in the annals of history… it was a soldier's dream.
"I'm honored, Colonel," he said, removing his gas mask now that the smoke had cleared. "But this success is yours. I only followed your plan."
Stryker chuckled. "You're too modest, Adam. Helping eliminate the Mutant threat has been my life's work. If you help see it through, I'll make sure you're rewarded properly."
Adam smiled. "Thank you, sir."
But then his expression changed.
"There was… one minor complication."
Stryker's smile vanished. "Complication?"
"Detective Catherine Beckett from the NYPD showed up with a squad," Adam said, "and there was a reporter from Global Daily embedded with them. Apparently, he was streaming the arrest live."
Stryker's face contorted.
"Live?!"
"Negative, sir!" Adam quickly added. "We were in full gear—masks on—and I destroyed the camera the moment we entered. No footage with our faces. Even if anyone saw anything, they can't identify us."
Stryker calmed slightly.
"Good. As long as our identities are hidden, we can deny everything. Let them speculate."
"Yes, sir."
Adam hesitated before asking, "So... what are your orders regarding the prisoners? Should we transport them back to the facility?"
Stryker's response was immediate—and brutal.
"Transport them? Are you planning to store them for the rest of your life?"
Adam froze.
Stryker's voice turned cold.
"Do you understand the risk we're under? If there's even the possibility they remember something, or escape, or leak a single sentence... it's over. For both of us."
"But, Colonel—" Adam started.
"They've seen too much. Even if they didn't see us, we can't afford to gamble."
There was a beat of silence.
Then, Stryker said with chilling finality: "Execute them."
Adam swallowed hard.
"I… understand."
Stryker's gaze sharpened. "And don't forget Nightcrawler. His usefulness ended the moment he completed the assassination attempt. Kill him."
"Yes, Colonel," Adam replied, his voice hollow.
"And if it helps," Stryker added with venom, "his blue skin always disgusted me."
Adam gave a silent signal to his squad.
Several soldiers stepped forward, rifles raised.
There was a pause—one of those moments where hesitation clung thick in the air, like fog before a storm. But obedience prevailed. One by one, the unconscious NYPD agents, Eddie Locke, and the other "non-essential" figures were executed on the spot.
Da-da-da-da-da—
Rifle fire echoed through the empty church.
Then came the final shot.
Nightcrawler slumped backward, his face still peaceful, as though his last thought had been prayer.
Stryker watched the massacre unfold through the communicator. He adjusted his glasses and smiled with grotesque satisfaction.
"They died in a church, praying for salvation. Irony has a sense of humor, doesn't it?" he said. "But they died for something greater—the end of the Mutant scourge. I'm sure God will understand."
Even Adam Robert, hardened soldier that he was, felt his stomach churn.
There was no remorse in Stryker's face—only glee. It was almost inhuman.
"Now," Stryker continued, "I'm going to uncork a bottle of champagne. When you return, we'll celebrate together. The extermination begins soon…"
But then… a faint gust of wind swept through the church.
A soundless breeze, subtle but undeniable, disturbed the dust on the floor.
Adam's instincts twitched.
Something wasn't right.
On impulse, he asked, "Sir, what about Jason—your son? If your plan succeeds, he'll die too. He's a Mutant, isn't he?"
Stryker froze for a moment.
Then his expression twisted into something truly horrifying.
"He should've died years ago."
His voice cracked like a whip.
"Since he developed that cursed psychic ability, he's been nothing but a test subject. His brain fluid is the only reason I kept him alive this long. If I didn't need his power to control Professor X, I'd have buried him myself!"
The words thundered like a confession. Stryker's face was red, veins bulging, his voice rising with hatred.
"I hate him. That abomination ruined my family—my life! If he dies, it will be a blessing!"
Adam Robert's heart thudded. He had always known Stryker was ruthless—but this… this was something darker. Even monsters had lines they wouldn't cross.
The call ended abruptly.
The video feed was terminated from Stryker's side.
Adam stood still, shaken.
He looked around at the church, at the corpses, the eerie quiet. The unsettling chill in the air had not left. Something felt off—terribly off.
Then—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion shattered the silence.
It came from above—directly overhead.
The ceiling cracked. Rubble rained down like hail. Soldiers scrambled for cover. Dust filled the air again, thicker and hotter than before.
Adam's eyes widened as he looked up, his instincts screaming.
Because this time… they weren't the hunters anymore.
They were the prey.
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