Chapter 22

———————————————

patreon.com/Lonely_Translator

I'd appreciate the support

———————————————

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Upon hearing this unfamiliar term, Professor Charles Xavier, showed visible confusion on his face. While he had previously interacted with the CIA, and had even fallen in love with a female CIA agent, this new organization called S.H.I.E.L.D. was completely unknown to him.

In an attempt to better understand the man standing before him, Professor X tried to use his psychic powers to read the stranger's thoughts. However, to his surprise, his telepathic abilities were completely ineffective. This was unprecedented and immediately raised his suspicion.

The man, who identified himself as Nick Fury, noticed Charles subtle mental probe and responded calmly yet firmly.

"We used to be known as the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. And Professor Xavier, there's no point in trying to use your powers. I knew who I was coming to capture, so naturally, I came prepared."

As he spoke, Fury tapped the side of his neck, revealing a small circular device emitting a subtle blue glow. This was a neural wave interference device, a piece of advanced technology originally based on Kree designs, specifically adapted from the apparatus used by the Supreme Intelligence to control Captain Marvel's mind. The device could both resist psychic intrusions and launch limited mental countermeasures, making it a powerful tool against telepaths like Xavier.

Fury continued with a calm demeanor, offering background to his actions. According to him, the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis was not merely a geopolitical standoff between nations but was actually provoked by a mutant known as Black King. As the newly appointed director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury had gained access to all classified intelligence stored within the CIA, including information pertaining to that incident.

Given the immense and unpredictable abilities of mutants like Magneto and Professor X, Fury had always refrained from taking direct action against them. However, a recent violent attack on the President of the United States, believed to be orchestrated by mutants, had crossed a line. The fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. had now perfected devices capable of resisting Charles' psychic control gave Fury the confidence to move decisively.

"I believe there has been a misunderstanding," Xavier began cautiously. He had no desire to engage in conflict with a government agency. With deliberate calm, he narrated the events that had transpired, hoping to clarify the situation and avoid escalation.

Unfortunately, Nick Fury was not a man easily swayed by explanations or appeals to reason.

"There's no need for lengthy discussion," Fury replied coldly.

"Once we have you all in custody, we'll investigate and uncover the truth ourselves. If it turns out you were not responsible for the assassination attempt, and if you're willing to sign a cooperation agreement, then I might consider releasing you."

To Fury, the identity of the true mastermind behind the attack was less important than establishing control. Even if Professor X were innocent, Fury would not allow someone with such overwhelming power to roam freely. To him, mutants represented a persistent and escalating threat, living weapons capable of catastrophic damage. Although he did not advocate for the extermination of mutants, Fury believed their development and actions had to be carefully monitored and tightly controlled.

To achieve that, he reasoned, one only needed to keep the two most influential mutant leaders, Magneto and Professor X, under surveillance or in containment. Once they were neutralized, the broader mutant community would become far less dangerous.

"I'm sorry," Xavier responded firmly,

"but I cannot entrust the safety of my students to a government agency I know nothing about."

He shook his head, disappointed but not surprised. Despite his hopeful vision for peaceful coexistence between humans and mutants, Xavier was no longer naïve. He had already paid the price for placing trust in government institutions once before. During an earlier conflict, many of his students had been forcibly conscripted into warfare, with some dying on the battlefield and others captured and subjected to inhumane experiments by rogue elements seeking to exploit their powers.

That betrayal had left a lasting scar on Xavier's soul. For a long time afterward, he had lived in self-imposed seclusion, paralyzed by guilt and despair. Eventually, he had found the strength to recover and had rebuilt the school, this time with a focus on training a special team, the X-Men, to defend their own kind and ensure the safety of young mutants from a world that still feared and misunderstood them.

Although Xavier still believed that humanity could one day coexist with mutants in harmony, that hope no longer extended to all parts of the government.

"In that case," Nick Fury declared with finality,

"I'll deal with you the same way I dealt with Erik Lehnsherr."

As soon as Fury raised his hand, the unspoken signal the silence fractured.

With explosive synchronization, Captain Marvel, Captain Carter, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and elite S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical teams surged forward like a rolling tide of war, their boots pounding the ground, their weapons raised and primed. This was no mere skirmish. It was a declaration of all-out war.

Earlier, Agent Melinda May had kept her squads at bay, wary of Magneto's overwhelming control over anything metallic. But now, the master of magnetism lay incapacitated, temporarily neutralized and every agent wore newly deployed psychic resistance gear. Devoid of hesitation and reinforced by Fury's cold precision, they were finally greenlit to engage the X-Men.

In the eye of the coming storm stood Professor Charles Xavier, his face carved from stone, the weight of inevitability dragging his expression into grim solemnity. He closed his eyes for a moment, almost mournfully, before issuing the fateful order

"To me, my X-Men."

What followed was pandemonium, pure and primal.

The sky itself turned traitor as Storm rose above the fray, her hair crackling with static electricity, her arms lifted toward the heavens. Her eyes turned an ethereal white as she tore open the skies, summoning thunderclouds so dense they blanketed the battlefield in an ominous twilight. With a sharp motion, she hurled a cascade of lightning bolts downward. The searing arcs of electricity exploded across the front lines of the S.H.I.E.L.D. squads, frying communications, weapons, and nerves alike. Some agents screamed as they were flung backward, twitching violently on the ground.

In a blur of rage and metal, Wolverine and Deathstrike, whose mind control had worn off, burst forward like predators unleashed from their cages. Their adamantium claws gleamed with lethal promise under the flickering light. Together, they surged toward Captain Carter, Black Widow, and Agent May, their animalistic snarls drowned out only by the roar of chaos around them. Wolverine tackled Carter with such force that the ground cratered beneath them, while Deathstrike and Widow clashed in a flurry of acrobatics and slashing limbs.

Above them, Cyclops planted his boots firmly into the ground, as he focused his optic blasts at full intensity. His crimson beams carved through the air, each impact aimed squarely at Captain Marvel, who hovered in the sky like a star. Wrapped in energy, Maria Rambeau was a force of nature, absorbing the hits with gritted teeth, her fists glowing with energy as she bore down on him.

Colossus moved like a tank through the inferno, his body a gleaming fortress of organic steel. He stood unflinchingly in front of Storm, intercepting a hail of gunfire from the advancing S.H.I.E.L.D. squads. The bullets pinged off his metallic frame, falling harmlessly at his feet like rain against stone.

Meanwhile, Nightcrawler, young and uncertain but burning with conviction, materialized beside Professor X in a puff of blue sulfur. His eyes scanned the battlefield nervously as he kept a watchful eye on Colonel Stryker, who remained shackled and silent, at least for now. Nightcrawler knew that if the man escaped in the chaos, everything could unravel.

But no plan survives contact with the enemy.

A whisper of movement. A flicker of light. And then a whistling scream through the air.

An arrow, fast and silent, tore through the storm. It curved expertly around Colossus's shoulder and hurtled straight toward Storm, who was too focused on manipulating the weather to notice. It was a perfect shot, Hawkeye's signature. He had been lying in wait, concealed amidst the shadows of a toppled Quinjet, having judged Storm's battlefield manipulation as the most dangerous factor in play.

"Hold this for me!" barked Mark, suddenly appearing at Nightcrawler's side. He tossed his adamantium staff to the startled mutant with casual precision and unsheathed his true weapon his power pole. In the next instant, he vanished in a blur.

Mark's body snapped forward like a coiled spring released. With supernatural agility, he sprinted across the battlefield, eyes locked on Hawkeye's position.

The arrows came fast exploding tips, electric shocks, paralytic darts. But Mark met them head-on, his power pole spinning in a blur, deflecting projectile after projectile mid-air with a shower of sparks.

"Afterimage strike!" he muttered under his breath.

A trail of ghostly afterimages shot forward. Hawkeye's keen eyes darted back and forth, trying to determine the real Mark from the illusion. He loosed two more arrows—one into the afterimage on the left, the other toward the right.

Both missed.

The real Mark closed the distance, his pole snapping out like a striking serpent.

THWACK!

A single, clean strike across the jaw rendered the world's greatest marksman unconscious before he even hit the ground. Hawkeye crumpled without a sound.

But Mark had no time to breathe.

Turning, he saw Cyclops stumble. Blood streamed from his temple where a piece of debris had struck him. Captain Marvel was advancing relentlessly, shrugging off optic blasts like they were little more than heated breezes. Her fists glowed with power, and her form shimmered as if about to unleash a cataclysmic blast.

Storm redirected a lightning bolt, hurling it straight into Captain Marvel's chest. The impact jolted her back mid-air, but she did not fall. She gritted her teeth, absorbed the energy and kept advancing.

Mark's eyes widened. 

He sidestepped a falling agent, sprinted to higher ground, and steadied himself. His muscles tensed, his power pole crackling with raw energy as he gathered his ki. The air around him distorted from the force of his concentration.

He cupped his hands together. Blue energy coalesced between his palms, growing, swelling, roaring.

"Kamehameha!!!"

The beam ignited like a lance of pure power, thundering through the battlefield in a deafening scream of light. It slammed directly into Captain Marvel's face at point-blank range, catching her mid-lunge. The explosion tore through the sky, sending her crashing into the ground in a shower of fractured earth and burning debris.