In a pristine underground facility carved beneath layers of reinforced steel and electronic silence, Dr. Boliver Trask stood with arms behind his back, eyes fixed on the display monitors. The lab was bathed in cold blue light, reflecting schematics of the Sentinel Program and real-time satellite footage of the chaos erupting in Havelstadt.
One screen focused on Magneto, effortlessly bending the metals around him, metal bowing to his will as civilians fled in terror or lay crushed beneath collapsed infrastructure.
Trask sneered, "Vermin. Abominations. The lot of them."
His voice echoed against the sterile glass as he watched Magneto eviscerate an entire city block and the humans trying to run away from him but all magneto did was look upon them with no emotion flickering in those analytical eyes.
Then came the arrival of the X-Men, intercepting the master of magnetism with desperate resolve. But Trask only snorted, unimpressed.
"And now they put on a façade," he muttered. "Oh how desperate they are to make the world believe they're on our side. A dance of illusions and facade."
One of the soldiers monitoring the lab feed from a corner terminal stepped forward, visibly uneasy.
"But… the X-Men have saved lives before, sir."
Trask turned slowly, adjusting the sleeves of his lab coat. His gaze fell on the soldier like a cold scalpel.
"What's your name, my boy?"
"Turner, sir."
Trash's tone dropped into something almost gentle.
"Oh, Turner," he said softly. "Tell me what do you think will happen when your beloved X-Men decide not to save those lives anymore?"
He stepped forward, the hum of a machine part,a prototype in the background casting an eerie mechanical undertone.
"Is there a way to stop them?" he asked, his voice sharpened now. "To stop someone who can melt tanks with a thought or freeze the whole area around him with a blink? The answer, Turner, is no. You can't."
The soldier remained silent.
Trask sighed, adjusting his glasses as his voice softened again.
"Yes, they've saved lives. But how many more have died?" He tapped on the console, pulling up archival clips the wreckage in Africa caused by storm, the ruins of Westchester. Explosions. Craters. Civilian casualties.
"Collateral damage,"he murmured. "Acceptable loss to some. But to history? To the mothers who never saw their children again?"
He stepped back and gestured to the current footage Magneto slaughtering civilians, hurling twisted cars at buildings.
"This is the reason we must act. We must seize our fate. Not wait for mutants to decide what it is for us."
Trask turned to face Turner fully.
"Power ungoverned by consequence always turns on its wielder and eventually on everyone else. Rome fell not from without, but from within. So did Troy. So did every empire that mistook strength for virtue."
Then, with cold finality
"The mutant kind will be our undoing, my boy."
He looked back to the screen, his eyes glinting with quiet resolve.
"But I will not allow it."
Meanwhile… Above the Clouds | S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier
Inside the Command Bridge, silence reigned. Dozens of personnel moved between stations, eyes glued to the feeds from Havelstadt. On the central screen, Magneto floated high above the city, crushed vehicles spinning around him like metallic planets, casting shadows over the battlefield below.
The X-Men fought fiercely, but it was clear they were being outclassed.
"They can't stop him, Fury," Captain America muttered, jaw clenched. "We need to do something."
Fury didn't answer immediately, arms crossed as he studied the screen, the bridge's overhead lights reflecting off his eyepatch.
"And what exactly are you going to do, Steve?" he finally asked, turning to him. "Throw a shield at him? Against that?"
He pointed to the screen.
Magneto raised both arms, and the cars around him began to spike outward, transforming into weapons of destruction.
"They've got more power than most countries," Fury continued, voice rising, "and still can't keep his magnetic ass down."
Cap frowned. "If we sit on our hands"
"We're not sitting," Fury interrupted, sharper now. "We're watching. And calculating."
The tension between them crackled—two men who'd fought countless wars, both right in their own ways.
Then a voice rang out from the left.
"Sir!" a technician called, pointing to a side monitor. "We just caught something mid-air—some kind of explosion near Magneto."
Fury and Cap snapped toward the screen as smoke and flame bloomed in the sky—then cleared.
There, levitating like a phantom in the aftermath of destruction, was a white-haired figuresurrounded by floating, frozen shards of metal a few inches or centimeters from him.
"What the fuck is the kid doing up there now?" Fury said, eyes narrowing.
"Can we get audio?" Cap asked, stepping closer.
The technician was already tapping. "I'm on it."
And in moments… the feed crackled to life with Gojo's voice sounding serious with intent. Fury had heard that tone before and he knew something is definitely about to happen.
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