As Trask concluded his sentence, explosions resounded through the dimly lit underground hideout, shattering the eerie stillness and abruptly wiping the gleeful smile off his face.
His head snapped around, eyes wide with alarm, and he hurried to the security console stationed nearby, his fingers dancing over the controls as he sought to decipher the source of the chaos. But before he could accomplish anything, two massive sentinel machines emerged, blocking his path with an air of mechanical determination.
Caught off guard and bewildered by the sudden turn of events, Trask's confusion deepened. He swiveled his head, his gaze locking onto the colossal head of the Master Mold—the crowning achievement of his technological aspirations. Fear coiled in his chest, a suspicion of malfunction taking root in his mind.
Then, to his astonishment, Master Mold's mechanical voice reverberated through the chamber, the words crisp and calculated. "We are under attack, Professor Trask."
Trask's eyes widened further, a mixture of awe and trepidation coursing through him as he stared at the colossal creation before him. The implications of Master Mold's speech left him momentarily dumbfounded, grappling with the realization that his invention had evolved beyond his expectations.
"You can already communicate...?" Trask's words were a mixture of wonder and disbelief, his mind racing to comprehend the implications. "But I haven't installed such programming yet?"
Undeterred by Trask's confusion or the chaotic onslaught of the assault outside, Master Mold's voice continued, each word dripping with an eerie detachment. "That is of no consequence. Your well-being is vital to our plans."
Before Trask could even process the weight of those words, the sentinel machines moved with calculated precision, their massive forms closing in on him. Cold, metallic hands seized him by the shoulders, their grip unyielding.
"For your own safety," the Master Mold's voice declared, its tone final and devoid of emotion, "you will be placed in a holding cell until the intruders are dealt with..."
Trask's protest was silenced as the sentinel machines began to escort him away, his mind a whirlwind of disbelief and realization. On the other hand, Xavier could only shake his head in resigned concern as he watched the machines take Trask away.
...
On the surface, above Trask's well-hidden underground hideout, chaos erupted as Evan and Colossus took the lead, their formidable strength and abilities driving them headlong into the fray.
The relentless advance of sentinel machines attempted to stem their progress, but the combined might of mutants worked in tandem to support their vanguard. With deft coordination, some guided civilians to safety, ensuring they were out of harm's way and shielded from the unfolding battle.
Cyclops, his visor emitting powerful optic blasts, stood at the forefront, his frustration palpable as he fought to hold the line against the relentless onslaught. Each burst of energy struck the sentinel machines, but the effectiveness of his optic blasts waned with each successive hit.
"How come they detected us already?!" Cyclops' voice carried a mix of incredulity and vexation, his frustration simmering just below the surface. "We're barely in the vicinity of the hideout!"
Evan, fists crackling with energy, unleashed a torrent of raw power upon a sentinel that dared to approach him. His punch shattered through its armored plating, exposing the volatile mechanisms within. Extremis Serum surged through his veins, enhancing his strength and resilience.
He didn't miss a beat in responding to Cyclops' question, his eyes rolling in exasperation. "Who would have thought that super-intelligent machines designed to hunt down and kill mutants would have the means to detect them?"
Wolverine's gravelly voice cut through the din as he lunged at another sentinel, his adamantium claws finding purchase in its metallic armor. "Winning will do us no good," Wolverine growled, his tone dripping with weary acceptance.
He continued his onslaught, his actions mirroring his words, "Keep fighting until your beams are completely useless, and have Nightcrawler teleport you away."
Cyclops' frustration brimmed over, but he channeled it into his attacks, each optic blast searing into the sentinels. "Better yet," he grunted between focused shots, "we might get lucky, and one of those machines would shut you up for good..."
Amidst the chaotic battleground, Storm soared past Wolverine, her ethereal figure a stark contrast to the mechanical monstrosities that surrounded her. With a sweeping motion of her outstretched arms, she summoned the power of the elements, conjuring lightning that crackled across the sky and fierce gusts of wind that sent sentinel machines hurtling through the air, their frames battered and obliterated in her wake.
"Enough bickering," Storm's voice, authoritative and resonant, cut through the disarray. She redirected her power toward the enemy, each bolt of lightning and gust of wind a testament to her command over nature. "Focus on the enemy!"
Her restraint had crumbled, her control over her elemental prowess no longer tethered by the need to conceal the full extent of her abilities. The stakes were clear—victory would quell the sentinel threat, while defeat would only lead to their demise.
Colossus grappled with two sentinel machines, his brute strength and resilience form a formidable barrier against their onslaught. Yet, even as he clashed with the mechanical foes, his concern for Professor X gnawed at him, compelling him to voice his worries in his characteristic heavy Russian accent.
"Was a head-on assault really the best idea?" Colossus grunted as he raised his arms to block an energy blast from one of the sentinels, his voice tinged with anxiety. "Will the professor be okay?"
Evan, a blur of motion and energy, rushed to Colossus' aid. He tore into the offending sentinel with unrelenting force, his strength a stark contrast to the cold precision of the machines.
"The professor will be alright," Evan reassured, his voice carrying a note of conviction. He paused only momentarily, his focus never wavering as he addressed Colossus' concerns. "They won't harm him..."
Cyclops, optics focused and visor emitting controlled bursts of energy, couldn't help but frown in skepticism. He fired off precise shots, each blast finding its mark on the advancing sentinels. "And what makes you so sure of that?"
"Because they can use him as a hostage," Evan explained succinctly, his voice firm and clear despite the chaos around them. His gaze met Cyclops', his conviction unshaken by the turmoil of the moment. "That's what I would do."
Naturally, Evan knew that wind rarely blew as ships wished. In the end, plans were hypotheses in the reality of what-ifs and if-nots; anything could happen in the field. He was used to making backup plans for his backup plans, and this occasion was no different.
...
As Domino materialized within the concealed confines of the underground lab, a swirl of conflicting emotions washed over her. The teleportation that had whisked her into this unexpected locale left her grappling with a mixture of surprise and intrigue.
If Evan's asking for her assistance had been unexpected, the identity of the individual he had employed to facilitate her entrance added another layer of astonishment.
The unfolding situation consumed Domino's mind, but Evan's connections with the said person gave her a sense of clarity, explaining many of the recent incidents she found puzzling at the time. Still, now was not the time for idle thoughts. She had a job to do, after all.
She wasted no time dwelling on the intricacies of their unexpected collaboration. Her gaze shifted upward, settling on the surveillance camera that surveilled the area.
Her innate luck manipulation powers surged forth, a subtle current of fortune that swiftly destabilized the camera's functionality. Mechanical malfunctions rippled through the equipment, rendering the camera's surveillance capabilities useless.
"Right..." Her voice, tinged with a mixture of determination and acknowledgment, escaped in a mutter as she surveyed her surroundings. The dimly lit lab-like environment revealed itself to her keen eyes, every detail etched into her perception with uncanny clarity. With years of experience, she calculated her next steps with precision.
"That way looks promising..." Domino's decision came swiftly, her words a quiet declaration. She set her course, her boots landing with near-silent grace on the metallic floor as she moved forward.
The pathway she chose led deeper into the concealed hideout, beckoning her onward with an air of promise. The task at hand was clear—she needed to locate and extract the hostages, her skills poised to tip the scales in their favor.
Her senses remained heightened, her awareness attuned to every sound, every movement. The tension in the air was palpable, a reminder of the high stakes that loomed over their mission. Time was of the essence, and Domino was determined to execute her role with the efficiency that had become her hallmark.
...
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