"Based on satellite measurement S.H.I.E.L.D. captured yesterday, we have a hard lock on their base of operations."
A holographic projection flickered to life in the center of the briefing cabin, casting a cool blue glow across the room. It displayed a three-dimensional wireframe of a dilapidated dockside warehouse in Lowtown. Beneath the warehouse floor, the hologram expanded to reveal a massive, heavily fortified underground bunker. Weapon X.
Cyclops didn't waste time. He immediately began issuing deployment orders. Everyone in the room—with the sole exception of Emma Frost, who refused to change out of her pristine white coat—was strapped into Hank McCoy's heavy-duty, yellow-and-blue Kevlar armor.
Peter stood in the corner, listening to the tactical briefing, and felt his jaw slowly drop.
He expected a highly coordinated infiltration strategy. He expected stealth parameters, contingency exits, and synchronized breach points. Instead, Cyclops's master plan boiled down to a shockingly blunt objective: kick the front door down, overwhelm the enemy, rip the gene-editing device out of the wall, heal Peter, and arrest everyone inside.
"Wait, that's it?" Peter asked, waving a hand at the hologram. "No stealth approach? No tactical retreat vector?"
"We have overwhelming offensive superiority," Scott replied, adjusting the strap on his combat visor. "Why overcomplicate it? We hit them with everything we have. Straight up the middle."
Peter blinked. It was the tactical equivalent of highlighting all your units in a strategy game and clicking 'attack-move.'
"Alright. Move out," Scott ordered.
Thirty minutes later, Peter found himself strapped into the jump-seat of a S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet, soaring over the Madripoor docks.
The hydraulic ramp hissed open, flooding the pressurized cabin with blinding sunlight and the roaring rush of wind. Logan unbuckled his harness and walked straight to the edge of the ramp.
He looked back at Jubilee, pointing a heavy finger at her. "You stay in this seat."
Without waiting for an answer, Logan took a breath, stepped off the ramp, and plummeted three hundred meters down toward the warehouse.
Cyclops walked to the edge next, a tight smile on his face. He tapped his comms earpiece. "Keep us in the sky, Hank. Watch the kids."
One by one, the strike team walked off the edge of the plane.
Peter leaned over his harness, looking out the viewport. Three hundred meters up, Scott angled his descent. His hand hovered near his visor. A blinding, ruby-red beam of pure kinetic force erupted from his eyes, slamming into the warehouse below. The concrete roof instantly vaporized under the sheer concussive pressure, exposing the gleaming, reinforced metal of the Weapon X bunker hidden underneath.
Logan hit the ground first. A human body falling from that height should have shattered, but his adamantium skeleton absorbed the catastrophic kinetic shock, and his mutant healing factor instantly fused whatever micro-fractures remained. He barely broke his stride.
Colossus hit the pavement a second later. His dense, organic-steel mass cratered the concrete like a meteorite strike, sending a shockwave of dust into the air.
Ice Man casually surfed down from the sky, projecting a massive, winding slide of solid ice beneath his boots. Emma Frost descended with agonizing elegance, using her telekinesis to gently lower herself to the asphalt.
Finally, Cyclops fired a secondary, highly-concentrated optic blast directly at the ground, using the massive recoil to perfectly cushion his landing. He touched down smoothly right in front of the blasted bunker doors.
He stood tall, the red glow of his visor cutting through the dust.
"To me, my X-Men."
Up in the Quinjet cockpit, Hank McCoy engaged the automatic hover thrusters. He swiveled his pilot's chair around to look at Peter, Cindy, and Jubilee.
"I am not entirely built to survive terminal velocity impacts," Beast explained with a weary sigh, gesturing to his own yellow-and-blue tactical suit. "I will be providing close air support."
Jubilee leaned forward, chewing her gum. "Can you make me one of those suits?"
"If you enroll in the academy, and if you survive a few months of rigorous danger-room training, you can join the active roster," Hank said gently. "But not today."
Peter glanced over and noticed Cindy staring intently at the S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical monitors. She wasn't reading her Dickens novel. She was tracking the heat signatures below with absolute focus.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. operational manuals mandate that during any superhuman conflict where intervention is not explicitly authorized, agents must observe the combat in real-time to determine if intervention becomes necessary," Cindy said, noticing Peter's stare.
Jubilee popped her bubblegum. "What happens if the manual doesn't tell you what to do?"
Cindy froze. She stared at the girl, her dark eyes wide. She had literally never considered the concept of operating outside the manual.
Down on the ground, the heavy steel doors of the Weapon X bunker ground open.
Daken marched out first, bone claws already extended. He was flanked by Lady Deathstrike, Domino, and Deadpool. But the man pulling their strings—Ajax—was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a small, heavily armored drone hovered out of the bunker, broadcasting his voice.
"Oh my. Look at this," Ajax's voice sneered through the tinny speakers. "The legendary X-Men. I thought Colonel Stryker gutted your little circus years ago. Half your roster is missing, and you still plan to siege my facility?"
"You're outnumbered, Ajax," Cyclops said coldly.
He glanced sideways at Emma. She pressed two elegant fingers to her temple, her brow furrowing.
"He's shielding," Emma murmured. "He has telepathic defenses. I can only get a rough proximity lock on his actual location."
The Weapon X operatives stiffened. Daken shot a furious glare at the hovering drone. None of them had any idea their handler was a telepathic mutant.
Scott felt a surge of grim vindication. This was exactly why he had brought Emma Frost. Going into a blind siege against an unknown telepath without a psychic shield of your own was a death sentence. Emma might not fully trust him, and he certainly didn't trust her, but they were a necessary alliance.
The Weapon X mercenaries quickly recovered their composure. They were professional killers; morality and trust were irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was whether Ajax was actively messing with their heads.
The X-Men still held the overwhelming tactical advantage. So why did Ajax sound so confident?
"You aren't the only one who called in favors, Cyclops," the drone laughed. "I received some... donations."
Miles away, a massive explosion rocked the S.H.I.E.L.D. Hightown headquarters, sending a pillar of black smoke into the skyline.
Inside the Quinjet, Peter and Cindy gasped simultaneously. A violent, agonizing spike of electricity jammed into the base of Peter's skull. His spider-sense screamed.
"Hank! Move!" Peter yelled, ripping off his seatbelt.
A dazzling, blinding streak of fire shot out of the smoke over the S.H.I.E.L.D. building. The original Human Torch streaked across the sky like a missile, hurtling directly toward the docks. As he flew over the Weapon X bunker, he dropped two massive payloads onto the concrete—Sabretooth and Omega Red, freshly broken out of S.H.I.E.L.D. containment.
Then, the flaming android pulled up, aiming straight for the hovering Quinjet.
Before Hank could grab the flight yoke, the Human Torch slammed shoulder-first into the Quinjet's starboard wing. The metal tore open like wet paper. Alarms shrieked through the cabin as the turbine engine caught fire.
"Brace for impact!" Hank roared, fighting the violently spinning controls as the Quinjet plummeted toward the ocean.
Down on the dock, the drone's speaker crackled with static.
"Now," Mister Sinister chuckled. "Who has the numerical advantage, Cyclops?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing takes time, coffee, and a lot of love.If you'd like to support my work, join me at [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
You'll get early access to over 50 chapters, selection on new series, and the satisfaction of knowing your support directly fuels more stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~