Earth.
Immediately after Joseph led the crowd to Asgard, a wave of similar conversations erupted in every corner of the globe.
"Have they gone?"
"Gone!"
"Really gone?"
"Truly gone!"
"Are you certain it wasn't just an illusion or some disguised magic? Did they really go to the Realm of the Gods?"
"It's real! Countless people saw it with their own eyes—Thor summoned Bifrost from the Realm of the Gods. And according to all data, Bifrost is a unique method of interstellar transportation exclusive to Asgard. It can only be remotely triggered by Asgardians. So those people… they've definitely left Earth!"
"Good! Let them go!"
"Exactly. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Joseph took with him key members like Storm, Phoenix, Cyclops, and the rest of the X-Men's main team!"
"In other words, the Earth is currently missing more than half of Mutant strength?"
"We don't know much about the new Xavier's School yet, but it hasn't been open long. After forming seven X-Men squads, they've probably exhausted their core elite force. The remaining Mutant students may be numerous, but they can't be that strong."
"So that just leaves Professor X, Magneto, and the four active teams—Wolverine, Mystique, Haimei, and Gambit?"
"And let's not forget—Joseph also took one hundred people selected through the 'Oasis' initiative. Since the press conference, these people and their families have vanished. Most likely, they've gone to the new Xavier's School as well."
"In that case… this really is the best opportunity we'll ever get!"
"Yes! Even if we're not fully prepared, their power is halved. If we strike now and eliminate the rest, Mutant foundations will be destroyed. And when those who went to Asgard return, we'll be ready for them!"
"That Joseph is still young and impulsive. He gained power too quickly and thought he could control everything—now he's brazenly confronting the gods. It's laughable."
"Foolish… but fortunate for us."
"So… Operation 18?"
"Do it!"
And so, a network of secret contacts was activated—whispers turning into plans, and plans into motion.
---
The Next Day, Noon — Secret Military Base
President Matthew Ellis and Admiral Scudder arrived side by side, their expressions filled with satisfaction. Today, they were overseeing the culmination of years of covert military buildup.
Before them, an entire battalion of elite soldiers stood in formation—geared and armored.
But these weren't ordinary soldiers.
These were hand-picked elites from special forces units across the globe, temporarily fused into a single elite task force, numbering in the thousands.
Every soldier wore a sleek black combat helmet—the same psychic-resistant alloy that had once been used by the Black King, Sebastian Shaw. These helmets rendered them immune to mental attacks.
In their hands were firearms made from specialized polymer. The bullets? Tubes of gene-cleansing serum.
Once it struck a Mutant target, the serum would suppress the X-gene, immediately nullifying their powers.
Grenades, compact guns, and other high-tech weapons had all been prepared using Earth's latest technological advancements.
This operation had required tremendous financial and technical resources. Nothing had been spared.
And as a final layer of strength—
One hundred of these soldiers had been injected with a new version of the super soldier serum.
"Your Excellency," General Ross began, standing at attention, "Serum No. 11 is our latest development. While it still lags behind the perfection of the version used by Steve Rogers, it far surpasses the one used on Emil Blonsky."
"Number Eleven?" the president raised an eyebrow. "We've already moved two generations ahead in such a short time? What are the stats? How's the stability?"
"Each subject is twice as strong as Blonsky," Ross replied. "Version Eleven increased physical stats by 50% compared to Version Ten. However… there's a tradeoff. Cellular metabolism is accelerated, meaning their lifespans are shortened."
The president's eyes widened. "How much shorter?"
"If they avoid extreme combat, they may live full lives," Ross said. "But if they go into a high-intensity war…"
He paused.
"…They'll be dead in three years."
The room fell silent.
The president was stunned. "We've spent billions building this force… and you're saying they're disposable?! Ross, are you insane?! If this gets out—"
Ross remained calm. Scudder stood still.
"You said it yourself," Ross interrupted. "This is war."
He continued, unwavering, "If we lose, Mutants will rise unchecked. They'll dominate the Earth. And humans… we'll become their slaves."
He glanced at the elite soldiers below.
"If these men knew their sacrifice could win this war—they'd be proud."
The president clenched his fists. He didn't believe that for a second. These men weren't told the truth. They were being used.
"And the Hulk serum?"
He pointed toward twenty towering figures in black robes on the far side of the plaza.
Ross nodded proudly. "The first successful Hulk injection was Wilhelm Stryker. He gained Hulk-level strength without losing sanity. We've refined it since then. These twenty red Hulks are our answer."
"Perfect control?" the president asked skeptically.
"We added a powerful tranquilizer to suppress rage. As long as they aren't subjected to excessive mental or physical strain… they'll remain stable."
"And the success rate?" the president asked.
Ross hesitated, then answered, "One in one hundred. We need one hundred perfect candidates to get one viable red Hulk."
The president's face froze.
"Which means… these twenty Hulks represent the death of two thousand elite soldiers?"
Ross didn't answer.
"And no testing?"
Ross shook his head. "No time. Like the serum soldiers—they're technically incomplete."
The president sighed. "And Weapon X?"
Ross gestured toward another group.
One hundred emotionless operatives stood in black leather suits—each with retractable claws and regenerative abilities.
"X-23 units," Ross said. "They carry Wolverine's healing factor. But to maintain control, we implanted brain chips. If the chips are damaged—they may go rogue."
The president's expression darkened. "All of this… is madness."
Ross didn't flinch.
"Worthin Labs' anti-Mutant serum, Trask's Sentinel Project—all of it used Mutant bodies for research."
The president turned pale, speechless.
Scudder chimed in, "Mr. Trask, the Sentinels are our trump card. Any issues?"
Trask stepped forward. "They have Mystique's shapeshifting, Cyclops' eye beams, flight, and limited ability copying. No metal components—so Magneto can't touch them."
"Only weakness?" someone asked.
"They're not intelligent," Trask said. "They're still just robots."
Everyone burst into laughter.
That wasn't a flaw—they didn't need thinkers. They needed killers.
"With these fifty Sentinels," the president declared, "we'll crush Xavier's School in one sweep!"
He looked toward Amanda Waller.
"Suicide Squad is en route," she confirmed. "They refused to come here. Said they'd go straight to the target. They're paranoid we'd kill them after."
"After we win," the president said coldly, "we'll clean up that trash."
He stepped onto a platform, raising his hand.
"Soldiers!" His voice boomed. "Your mission is simple."
"Today, your actions will be recorded in the annals of human history!"
"You are the heroes who will save the world from Mutant tyranny!"
"You will protect our future—our children, our families—from powers that could one day destroy us!"
"So go!"
"Fight!"
"For the future of humanity!"
A deafening roar rose from below.
"FOR THE FUTURE OF HUMANITY!!!"
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