Chapter 9: Crisis Averted

"Jensen?" The professor exclaimed, recognizing the man in front of him—his expression numb, eyes filled with a sinister glare.

"My God, William, this is your son! What have you done to him?" Jensen had visible surgical scars on his head, and even someone without medical knowledge could tell he had been subjected to something brutal.

"No, he's not my son, he's a demon. Charles, you know this better than anyone, don't you?" Stryker said.

"You want me to heal your son, but being a mutant isn't a disease..." The professor's words were abruptly cut off by Stryker's harsh interruption.

"You're lying! You're even more afraid of him than I am. You know, he hates us. He resents us for causing what he is now, and he takes pleasure in torturing our minds, filling our heads with illusions. In the end, my wife..." Stryker's voice trembled with rage, the hatred in his eyes only growing.

The professor stared at Stryker, enraged, and at Jensen, whose eyes were sunken and bird-like, unable to speak for a moment.

Even though he cared deeply for his kind, the professor couldn't deny that the powers of mutants were indeed dangerous, especially to ordinary humans. While his school had always aimed to teach children how to control their powers, the human heart was unpredictable. A single setback or temptation could lead them astray, and society was filled with distrust toward the "other."

"At least this will end today. I will personally put an end to this nightmare that has lasted for decades."

"I've dealt with mutants for just as long as you, but the most troubling thing is that you never know how many mutants there are in the world or how to find them—" Stryker intentionally paused, then added,

"Except for you."

He bent down, staring deeply into the professor's eyes. The blue light from the neural inhibitor on the professor's head flickered, and though the professor was frantic, he was powerless.

"Unfortunately, I didn't have time to prepare. This little dose of hallucinogen is too little for you. Your powers are much greater. So, I took a different approach and brought the main substance's producer along with me. He will make you bow to him." Stryker patted Jensen's shoulder and stopped talking to the professor, turning to ask the special soldiers who were operating equipment outside the searching room,

"How much longer?"

"Almost done, sir," the soldier replied, the machine emitting a beam of light, shooting into the locked searching room.

"Hurry up. Our time is limited. I need to see the brainwave amplifier," Stryker urged his men, then asked his assistant, "Have all the mutants been captured? I don't want to hear of any escaping."

The assistant nodded, "I'll have them report immediately." He opened the communicator to make contact, but no response came.

"It's probably trouble. I'm going up now." The assistant decisively called his men to pick up weapons and leave the basement.

"No matter what happens, I want you to hold for an hour," Stryker said, then looked at the technician, "I know you're doing your best, but there's been a change above. Your colleagues might be surrounded by the enemy, bleeding out every minute. I need you to work faster."

"Yes, Sir!" the technician shouted in reply.

Soldiers who valued brotherhood quickly became fired up after Stryker's encouragement, eager to help.

This was just what Stryker wanted. He believed these young people could get the job done.

However, after motivating them, he turned back and saw his assistant and his subordinates still standing still.

"Jester, why are you still here?" Stryker asked, his patience wearing thin.

But no one responded to his displeasure.

"Jester Warren!" Stryker shouted the assistant's full name, feeling something was off.

As he approached, he noticed a slender, silver-glowing metal ring around his assistant's neck. The ring had sunk deep into the flesh, choking him almost to death. His assistant struggled to pry it off, but it was futile, his effort to stand straight was exhausting.

"Leo Nix? Lucas Burton?" Stryker looked at the rest of his subordinates, all of whom were similarly suffering from metal rings around their necks, their eyes rolling back, saliva dripping uncontrollably from their mouths. If left for another moment, they'd suffocate.

"Eric Lanser! I know it's you, come out!" Stryker drew his pistol, pointing it at the professor's head, as the technicians around him cautiously armed themselves. Their weapons, like the soldiers above, were made from a transparent, glass-like material.

"Hello, professor. It's a pleasure to see you." With several guns aimed at him, Erik calmly walked into view, his expression as relaxed as if he were out for a stroll.

"I feel the same, Erik. How are the children?" Upon seeing the newcomer, the professor's expression relaxed immediately. Ignoring his own danger, he quickly asked about his students.

[...]

"Mr. Stryker?" Ignoring the happy crowd, Erik turned to ask.

"It's me." Stryker, who had been slumped on the floor, gasping for air, responded bitterly.

"I've heard of you. It's a pleasure to meet you." Erik casually sized up the famous anti-mutant movement leader, speaking lightly.

His gaze, like that of a zoo monkey, immediately angered Stryker. The pain of failure and the dizziness from oxygen deprivation made him lose his mind for a moment. He sat up and screamed like an enraged woman.

"Are you proud of yourself? Do you think you've won? Take a good look at this familiar face: Eric Lanser, a Jewish mutant scum, the assassin who killed Kennedy, a wanted criminal, a notorious terrorist! But I know you're not him. You're just a pathetic creature wearing his name with no background. Tell me, which lab were you created in? Osborne, AIM, some secret military department, or are you just a leftover from my old employer Trisk?"

"You know me?"

"Of course I do! Even though those idiots in Capitol Hill can't get their act together and fail to mobilize enough resources, they won't stop me. A determined person always finds a way, like with surveillance or wiretaps. It's not just me watching you. Charles's telepathy is also in play. I can listen to Magneto's subordinates. New monitoring jets can pinpoint a frequency of human speech from a thousand miles away. Even without high-end equipment, I can still achieve the same result."

Stryker's words cleared up Erik's doubts. He had been able to find the academy's fleeting vulnerabilities but hadn't realized his own situation. All his intel had been indirectly obtained.

Erik nodded.

"I see. Thank you for the explanation. I have to say, though we're enemies, I do have some respect for you. Your long-term persistence in research is impressive," Erik said, gesturing at the brainwave inhibitor and the scattered polymer equipment on the floor.

After venting his anger, Stryker calmed down, regretting the things he had said in his fury. The opponent would surely be more cautious now, and it was unlikely that he would escape unscathed.

[...]

"Professor, we're late. Are you all okay?" Storm, Ororo, arrived even before her voice reached the room. Hearing that the school had been attacked, her heart was pounding in her chest.

The other X-Men were equally shocked. They hadn't expected something like this to happen. If Stryker had succeeded, what would the point have been of stopping Magneto from harming the people of New York? All mutants would be doomed.

"Professor, where's Stryker? I need to see him," Cyclops demanded, his murderous intent clear for all to see. He would never forget how Stryker had tortured him on that island when he was young. It was a nightmare he could never escape.

"Let go of him?" This time, it wasn't just Cyclops. Every X-Men member was stunned. Stryker, the mutant's arch-nemesis, had been released just like that?

"Why?" a chorus of voices asked.

Erik, listening to the voices from inside the room, shrugged.

"Just as I thought, they find it hard to accept my methods, but you'll understand, won't you?" he said.

The woman across from him smiled silently.