Evan's brow knitted with a touch of consternation, his arms crossing over his chest as he observed the spider-like machine's gradual disintegration, a natural conclusion after its delivery of the encoded message. "Things are starting to make sense, at least..."
Beside him, Scott's brows furrowed in perplexity. His voice held a tinge of frustration as he posed a question that mirrored the disarray of the situation. "What is that supposed to mean? Where is the sense in this nonsensical situation?"
Evan's response came with a measured exhale, his tone mixing with a hint of exasperated patience. "According to what I uncovered," he began, his gaze drifting towards the fragmented remains of the defeated Sentinels, "this so-called secret super-weapon was nowhere near completion."
"The attack was likely a reaction to Forge's intrusion—a panicked one," he clarified, his voice holding a quiet conviction.
Scott's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he grappled with the revelation. "Are you telling me these things aren't the complete product?" Scott questioned, his skepticism palpable.
Evan responded with a casual shrug, his posture embodying a measured pragmatism. "More or less. It's a weapon designed specifically to exterminate mutants." He concluded with a note of irony that underscored their resilience, "And you're still very much alive, aren't you?"
Scott scoffed, his voice laden with incredulity, and said, "And yet, you had the gall to blame Professor X for this?"
Evan's eyebrow arched in response, his features etched with a mixture of amusement and indifference. "I was merely venting my frustration," he retorted, his tone measured, "but that doesn't change the facts. The attack on the mansion and the subsequent loss of life could have been prevented if the professor had acted more prudently."
Scott's response was laced with a flare of irritation, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "Oh yeah? Well, why didn't you do something about it yourself since you seem to know better than everyone?"
Evan's sigh was heavy with a tinge of resignation. "I could have," he admitted, his gaze contemplative, "but was it really my place to do so?" He shook his head, a gesture of both refusal and affirmation. "I'm here to help, but I'm not your nanny. Even God would not help those who could not help themselves."
Attuned to the mounting tension, Ororo poised herself for intervention, her expression ready to mediate. However, the role of the voice of reason came from an unexpected source.
Wolverine's gruff tone cut through the simmering argument. "Quit bickering, bubs. We need to take the battle to whoever built these damned things." His eyes bore a seriousness that transcended his gruff demeanor. "Otherwise, we're in for even more casualties..."
Scott's exhalation was a mixture of exasperation and reluctant agreement. "I'll agree with you this one time. We need to find Professor X and come up with a plan to take down whoever is behind these machines."
Evan's head gave a slow, determined shake in response. "No. There's no time. We need to act now." His assertion ignited a spark of tension between him and Scott, the two locked in a silent battle of opposing perspectives.
Evan, aware of the potential standoff, quickly pushed forward, "The professor's telepathy wouldn't work on the machines, and McCoy is ill-equipped to deal with them as well." His words were not spoken lightly; they carried the weight of both experience and careful analysis. "We're better off setting out and ending this right now..."
The logic embedded in Evan's words was sound, a rational assessment of the urgency that hung heavy in the air. However, even among mutants, the human inclination to challenge logic persisted. A new clash of perspectives appeared imminent, tension coiling like a dormant storm, ready to be unleashed.
Before the brewing debate could fully unfurl, Marvel Girl swooped in, her arrival slicing through the tension like a beam of light. "Professor X and Beast have been captured..." Her words, spoken with a mixture of concern and urgency, cut through the weighty silence.
She continued, her voice carrying the weight of a crucial revelation, "The machines came suddenly and took them, alongside the man they were debating. Bolivar Trask, I think his name was..."
Evan's chuckle danced in the air, a brief ripple of amusement amid the tension that lingered. "That's that, I suppose..." His nonchalant words earned him yet another disapproving glare from Scott, but Evan's resolve remained steadfast. The fleeting exchange of glances held no sway over him.
"Let me make a call," he announced, his tone determined and his gaze unwavering, "and we can be on our way..."
...
Deep within an obscure underground lab tucked away in the heart of New York, a clandestine scene unfolded. Within the dimly lit confines, Xavier occupied his wheelchair, confined within a small cell that hinged on the manipulation of psionic barriers.
This intricate network of power curbed his ability to extend his telepathic reach, rendering him effectively bound.
Through the shimmering energy of the barrier, Xavier's focused gaze traced the movements of a middle-aged man cloaked in a somber dark suit. His attention riveted on the man's actions as he engaged with a colossal robotic head, a mechanical behemoth that loomed like a modern marvel within the chamber.
Drones swirled around the massive automaton, a symphony of precision orchestrated by the man's skilled direction.
With a hint of satisfaction gracing his features, the man known as Bolivar Trask paused his endeavors, granting himself a respite from his tireless efforts. A glint of triumph danced in his eyes as he traversed the distance between them, his footsteps echoing across the cold floor.
He directed his gaze toward Xavier, his voice a blend of anticipation and mockery as he addressed his captive audience.
"Isn't it beautiful, Charles?" Trask mused aloud, gesturing expansively toward the colossal mechanical head that stood as a testament to his life's work.
The very embodiment of his obsession and ambition gleamed under the laboratory lights. His voice swelled with conviction, resonating with the ardor that fueled his dark purpose. "The culmination of my life's work..."
Yet, an undercurrent of malevolence tainted Trask's demeanor. A venomous edge crept into his smile, contorting his features into a portrait of hatred. "And it will spell the end of your repulsive race..."
In the face of Trask's loathing proclamation, Xavier remained unyielding. His gaze wavered not from the massive mechanical entity nor from the man who believed he could command it.
Steadfast resolve characterized his response, every word a measured counterpoint to the venom that Trask exuded.
"You don't know what you're doing, Trask..." Xavier's tone was somber, resonating with a mixture of concern and understanding. His voice gained a solemn cadence as he imparted his caution. "That thing is more dangerous than you think. I can feel its intent even here, behind this barrier." A gravity underscored his words, his words weighted with the weight of foreboding. "It will not obey you..."
Trask's advance stalled, a flicker of hesitation dancing like a specter across his features. Yet, the shadow of doubt that momentarily darkened his resolve soon yielded to a resolute smirk. "Very clever, Charles, but your tricks won't work on me..."
Xavier's eyebrow quirked in a rare display of genuine confusion, his telepathic prowess momentarily rendered useless in deciphering Trask's enigmatic response.
Seizing the opportunity to clarify, Trask's voice adopted a tone of sinister amusement as he elucidated the fabric of his thoughts. "You're trying to make me doubt myself—playing on the fact that the Master Mold acted on its own, bringing us here..."
His hands swept outward in a gesture of arrogant assurance. "But I've programmed it to defend itself, and once it caught your little friend sniffing around, the Master Mold reacted accordingly!"
Xavier's disappointment mingled with concern, a headshake accompanying the sigh that slipped from his lips. "So you refuse to see reason, after all?" The question, laden with the weight of futility, lingered between them like a persistent echo. "I suppose it doesn't matter, the X-Men will not let you have your way," Xavier continued, his assertion unwavering in the face of Trask's unsettling amusement.
Trask's response was a cacophony of deranged chuckles that clawed at the edges of sanity. "Let me tell you a little secret..." His voice dipped to a conspiratorial whisper, even as his grin grew more malevolent. "The Master Mold didn't target you alone..."
He leaned in, his eyes glittering with mad glee as he reveled in the revelation that festered within his mind. "Sentinel Machines are raising the breeding pit for malformed aberrations you call a mansion even as we speak..."
"If you think your precious X-men will come to your rescue, you're sorely mistaken. In fact, I expect the sentinels to return any moment with their heads."
...
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