Tyson lounged against the hard, cold wall of his cell, the blare of the ongoing alarm starting to blend into the background. His fingers drummed idly on his leg, eyes darting around the cell. Without the distractions of the blondes, it was all a bit boring. If this was a fight, it was easily the dullest one he'd been in yet.
Suddenly, the sound of the cell block door groaning open caused him to sit up in anticipation. Maybe this was the moment things would get interesting. Through the metal bars, he watched for who would appear next.
To his surprise, it was Scott Summers, Cyclops. The usually composed leader of the X-Men looked a tad off as he approached Tyson's cell.
"Yo, Professor Summers!" Tyson called out, trying to inject some levity into the tension. "How about doing a guy a favor and getting me out of here?"
Cyclops didn't respond. He just stood there, eyes hidden behind his signature ruby-quartz visor, watching Tyson with an intensity that made him uncomfortable and revealed things were not as they appeared. Before Tyson could say more, a new figure strolled into view. Omega Red. But it was the man following him that made Tyson worry. William Stryker, the man behind all of this. Stryker was normally composed but for the first time, Tyson saw he was shaken, his brow sweaty and his suit disheveled. But what caused him pause was the vial clutched in Stryker's hand. It was a small container filled with a mysterious liquid that gleamed menacingly.
Tyson's casual demeanor shifted, realizing that whatever was happening was bigger than just him, and whatever was in that vial was central to it all.
A moment of clarity hit Tyson like a sledgehammer as the pieces clicked into place. Scott's blank stare, Omega Red's presence, and that vial in Stryker's hand. Scott had been manipulated, likely by that very serum Stryker held. The memory of the movie's plotline started to play in Tyson's mind, acting as a roadmap to the present predicament.
Tyson leaned against the cold bars of his cell, trying to keep his voice light, even though his mind raced with potential escape plans. "Hey, Stryker," he began, giving a fake grin, "You hiring? Gotta say, I'm appreciating the upgrade you gave me." He subtly took a step backward, placing some distance between him and the entrance. "About before, I was just kidding about those dental benefits. Don't need them with the healing factor, you know?" He chuckled, hoping to buy some more time.
Stryker's lips curled in annoyance. "We don't have time for your games," he snapped. He shot a commanding glance at Omega Red. "Red, grab him."
Omega Red grinned, his tentacles uncoiling, ready for action. Tyson knew he needed to act fast, but with Scott being controlled and Red ready to pounce, his options were slim. Whatever move he made next had to count.
The chilling realization that he might be subjected to the mind-control serum was enough to set Tyson on edge. He had been in tight spots before, and being cornered with no apparent escape reminded him of how he'd felt within the confines of Magneto's metal prison. This fear was reinforced as Omega Red's tentacles shot toward him, resembling metal serpents preparing to strike.
Just like Magneto.
The carbonadium appendages were nearly as tough as his adamantium claws, but not quite. Tyson refused to become another of Stryker's mindless pawns. He refused to be trapped, helpless and left for dead again.
"Come on, Red! Is that all you've got?" Tyson taunted angrily. Pulling on Sabertooth's agility, he twisted, ducked, and leaped, barely avoiding the tentacles' relentless pursuit. One particularly close swipe from Omega Red made him grit his teeth. Swiftly retaliating, Tyson's adamantium claws gleamed as they came into contact with the tentacles. Sparks flew, filling the air with a brief, electric-blue glow. Although the cuts he inflicted were shallow, the metallic sound of his claws clashing against the tentacles rang throughout the chamber. Every dent, every scratch he left on Omega Red's weapons was a small victory, reinforcing that his defiance was not in vain. Despite the odds, Tyson's spirit remained unbroken. He was a fighter, and he would not go down easily. Even as the tentacles continued to lash out, seeking to ensnare him, he was determined to resist until his last breath.
Stryker's face contorted in irritation. He had expected this to be swift, but Tyson was proving to be more resilient than anticipated. "Enough of this," Stryker snapped, pointing a commanding finger at Scott. "Shoot him."
Cyclops, under the influence of the mind-controlling serum, showed no hesitation. He touched his visor, and in an instant, a vibrant red beam shot out. Tyson, still dodging Omega Red, barely saw it coming. The force of the energy beam was like being hit by a sledgehammer; it slammed into his chest, catapulting him backward to collide with the cold, steel wall. The wind was knocked out of him, but he shook off the impact and rolled to the side. Scott focused, letting out an even more potent and sustained optic blast. The energy beam seemed almost tangible, like a wall of pure force, pushing Tyson relentlessly back. He struggled against it, his feet scraping against the floor, but it was too powerful. The force pinned him against the wall, his claws scraping desperately for any form of leverage.
Omega Red took full advantage of the situation guiding his tentacles forward. One of them wrapped securely around Tyson, the cold metal squeezing tighter and tighter. Tyson growled in frustration and grunted in exertion as he tried to break free. The cold, constricting grip of Omega Red surpassed his strength and stole his leverage. His muscles tensed and bulged, to no avail.
Omega Red's steel-like grip hoisted Tyson effortlessly, pinning him against the cold, unyielding metal bars of the cell. He was spun around, his neck and the back of his head exposed and vulnerable, perfectly positioned. Tyson's eyes narrowed as Stryker approached, a small glass dropper filled with a menacing liquid in his hand.
Tyson's mind raced. He knew what that serum meant; if it touched him, Stryker would have control over him, his mind, he would be a mere puppet. Desperation fueled his next words. "Wait! Hail Hydra!" he blurted out.
Stryker, initially advancing with clear intent, halted. A flicker of surprise crossed his usually impassive face. Tyson inwardly sighed at his gamble. He had pieced together fragments of information, a jigsaw puzzle with too many missing pieces. Stryker was the head of Weapon X, an offshoot of the Weapons Plus program, the project that created Captain America. If Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD, it wasn't far-fetched they could have their tendrils in Weapon X. Omega Red's presence, too, was a piece that Tyson couldn't make fit unless there was something else at play.
"That's very interesting. Very, very interesting," Stryker mused, his voice steady yet tinged with a curiosity that didn't quite reach his cold eyes. He leaned closer to Tyson, his breath almost a whisper against Tyson's ear. "Hydra doesn't know about this little mission. This is personal. And I'd prefer they didn't find out. So please forgive my improper professional etiquette, but secrets must remain secret." The words chilled Tyson more than the cool air of the cell.
Tyson felt the weight of Stryker's revelation crush the faint glimmer of hope he had mustered. There was no cheat code that would free him from this predicament.
He was right about Stryker… And it didn't matter.
As Stryker's grip tightened on the dropper, Tyson struggled fiercely. He knew what was coming; the serum within that small vial had the power to strip him of his will, to make him a puppet to Stryker's twisted designs. He braced himself, muscles tensing in futile resistance.
Two droplets fell, their descent almost graceful, and landed on the vulnerable skin of Tyson's neck. The serum burned upon contact, a searing heat that promised the doom of subservience. Tyson gasped, the sensation clawing at his flesh. Stryker stepped back, a cruel smile playing upon his lips, an artist admiring his work. At that moment, Tyson understood that Stryker relished not just the control but the act of taking it. The satisfaction etched on Stryker's face was not just cold, it was arctic, devoid of any semblance of humanity.
Time seemed to warp around them, each second elongated into an agonizing stretch of reality. A change began to overtake Tyson. The fierce struggle wilted away. The tension that fortified his muscles dissolved, and the fire that had blazed defiantly in his eyes dimmed into a flicker. His body slackened, no longer resisting the steel grip of Omega Red. Tyson's expression gave way to a blankness, proof of the serum's efficacy. The fight had left him, not by choice, but by the imposition of a will that was not his own.
Omega Red's metallic tentacles now held a limp body. Any struggle that remained was only within Tyson's head. A battle of the mind and spirit against the chemical whose chains now bound him. Stryker's expression remained impassive, his satisfaction not found in the spectacle of the struggle, but in the end result. He turned his back on Tyson. Walking away from a conquered, compliant foe.
~~ Rogue Replacement ~~
In the main security room, an array of monitors displayed different corridors, chambers, or external parameters of the facility. Stryker entered with an air of urgency. The guard immediately straightened up, saluting out of habit. "We have a mutant on the loose," Stryker declared, his voice dripping with frustration. "A metamorph, she could be anyone."
The guard's eyes darted to the screens, then back to Stryker, a hint of realization dawning. "Anyone?" he echoed, the weight of the statement settling in.
Before the guard could react, Stryker reached for the rifle that lay next to the guard. He used the butt of the rifle to strike the guard hard on the side of his head. The guard crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even knew what hit him.
Stryker's form began to change. His skin rippled and morphed, shifting colors and textures. His stature and physique transformed until standing in Stryker's place was the blue-skinned, yellow-eyed woman, Mystique.
She looked around the room briefly, a sly smirk crossing her face. With a sense of purpose, she strode to the heavy door controls. Pushing a large red button, the room was immediately filled with the loud, grinding noise of the blast doors closing. They slid into place with a resounding thud, sealing Mystique inside.
Inside the security room, Mystique's fingers danced over the terminal, her yellow eyes scanning through lines of code and system schematics. The security system of the base was sophisticated, but her skills were up to the challenge. Glowing lines of data flowed down the screen, each command she entered bringing her one step closer to her objective. A triumphant smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she found the controls for the blast doors. With a final keystroke, the system beeped in compliance, signaling that the doors were now under her control.
At the entrance of the base, soldiers were taken off guard as warning lights flashed and klaxons blared. The towering, thick metal doors slowly began to grind open, revealing the world outside. The soldiers rushed forward, guns at the ready, positioning themselves to repel the intrusion.
But as they steadied their aim, a magnetic force gripped their weapons, wrenching them from their grasp. The firearms floated in mid-air, defying gravity, before turning to face their former owners. From the opening, a figure stepped forward. It was Magneto. "Run along," he ordered, his voice dripping with disdain, as the floating guns ominously pointed at the petrified soldiers.
Not needing to be told a second time, the soldiers scattered, their courage evaporating in the face of such raw power. As they fled, Storm, Logan, and Nightcrawler emerged from behind Magneto, ready to reclaim their lost allies from Stryker's clutches.
The corridors echoed with the sounds of alarms and shouted orders. The group moved swiftly, using their unique abilities to overpower any resistance that dared to confront them. Every corner they turned or door they breached brought them closer to the security room where Mystique had set the stage for their invasion. They stood before the heavy doors of the security room. They slid open to reveal Mystique, still in her blue-skinned form, standing next to a bank of monitors displaying various parts of the facility.
Magneto took a step forward, his eyes scanning the screens. "Any idea where Charles is?"
She nodded, pointing to a monitor that displayed a familiar figure bound in a chair. "Stryker's got him in a twisted version of Cerebro. We need to move fast."
Storm asked, "And the students? The kids he kidnapped?"
Nightcrawler, appearing uneasy, said, "They are being held in another section."
Storm's eyes clouded over with worry. "We need to split up. Time is of the essence."
Magneto nodded in agreement. "Mystique and I will retrieve Charles."
Storm said, "I'll get the kids. Kurt, will you come with me?" Kurt nods. Storm looks around the room and realized… "Where's Logan?"
Magneto answered, "Logan's gone after his own prize. There's no time to wait for him."
~~ Rogue Replacement ~~
Inside the Blackbird, tension brewed among the group. John threw a disapproving glance toward the ramp of the aircraft. "Why'd they have to leave us behind? We could've helped!"
Bobby tried to offer some comfort. "Come on. The Professors and the others have their reasons. Maybe they just thought this mission was too dangerous. We aren't trained, we're just students."
Jubilee piped up, her colorful, star-shaped earrings catching the dim lights of the cockpit. "Yeah, and you know Logan. He'd have our heads if anything happened to us. He's super protective like that. Especially of Tyson, he's definitely going to bring him back."
John huffed, "That's no excuse. We can handle ourselves."
Illyana chimed in, "I've faced down demons in Limbo. Some soldiers aren't going to scare me."
Jubilee continued trying to mediate the situation. She looked towards Jean, who was unusually silent, her eyes shut, possibly trying to focus on her telepathy. "Jean, back me up here. We're doing the right thing by listening, right?"
Jean sat with her eyes shut tight. Every muscle in her face was drawn taut emphasizing the lines of deep concentration on her face. Jean was used to navigating the tumultuous sea of thoughts around her, but now she sensed something different. The moment Jubilee addressed her, Jean's eyes snapped open, revealing a troubled look. "Something's changed," she said, her voice filled with concern. "I sensed Scott... Professor Summers. It was strange, his thoughts shifted abruptly, becoming almost... robotic. And I can't sense Professor Xavier at all. He's usually like a beacon to me, but now there's nothing. But there's another telepath there, one that's powerful, like Professor X almost. But it's so strange, it's like there isn't one focused point of psionic energy, but several with the same mental signature. I don't understand..."
Illyana leaned forward, her silver hair flowing over her shoulders. "Focus on what's important, Jean! What about Tyson?" she demanded.
Jean closed her eyes for a split second, attempting to focus. "Tyson's mind is always difficult for me to pick up unless he's close. Right now, I'm not sure. I can't pinpoint him."
Illyana's pale blue eyes flashed with determination. "I'm done waiting." With a huff, she stood up, her boots thudding against the metal floor, and began to stride determinedly toward the back of the plane. The others exchanged glances, knowing that when Illyana made up her mind, there was little that could stop her.
Bobby stepped in front of Illyana, blocking her path. "Hold on," he said, his voice firm but gentle, "If one of us goes, we all should go." John nodded in agreement.
Illyana glared at him for a moment, "Well then, let's go."
Jean rubbed her temples, a small frown on her face. "I just want everyone to be safe. But I have a feeling things are about to get a lot worse before they get better. If we're going in, we need to be united and ready for anything."
Jubilee took a deep breath. She looked at her friends. The determination and fear warred in her eyes. "You guys remember when Tyson faced Magneto, right?" she began, her voice quivering ever so slightly. "After that fight, once he finally woke up, he told me something. He looked at me with those eyes, you know, and he said, 'Jubes, don't ever go up against someone like Magneto if you can avoid it. You're strong, but you gotta know your limits.' He told me about how badly he'd been hurt. Honestly, he wasn't even sure how he'd made it, like he was almost broken. And the terrifying part? None of us would've survived half the injuries he had." Jubilee's eyes glistened as she continued, "And now, once again, he's the one in danger, and I... I just don't know what to do. I want to help, but...what if I can't? What if I'm not strong enough?"
The room went quiet as Jubilee's words hung in the air. The weight of the situation pressed down on all of them. Her vulnerability and raw emotion gave everyone a momentary pause, grounding them in the reality of the dangers facing them inside.
John raised an eyebrow stating, "But Magneto is on our team now."
Jubilee's gaze turned fiery as she shot back, "Is he? You've seen how he is. If he finds Tyson in there, who's to say he won't turn on him again? Can we trust him?"
There was a tense silence. Everyone knew the history and the weight behind Jubilee's words. Then Illyana stepped forward, her silver locks flowing and her blue eyes piercing with an intensity only she possessed.
"Then we need to go," she declared. "Remember when Tyson faced Magneto? He had Jean's power backing him up. Without it, he wouldn't stand a chance. And Jubilee, you aren't alone here. On the train, it was just you and Tyson, outnumbered. But together, we can make a difference." Illyana looked at each of her classmates. "So, we're all in agreement then?"
When no one dissented, Bobby, with a slight smile, declared, "Looks like it. Let's go!"
~~ Rogue Replacement ~~
Stryker stood inside Cerebro. As he approached Mutant 143, Stryker's boots echoed in the cavernous space. The mutant was strapped down, eyes wide but with a vacant look. The cables attached to his head pulsed with energy. Leaning down, Stryker whispered into Mutant 143's ear, "Find them. Every last mutant. And end them."
As he stood upright, Stryker's gaze softened. For a moment, he remembered his son Jason, and all the time they'd spent together. But then he remembered. This was not his son. This was the creature who, in Stryker's eyes, had taken his wife from him. A flicker of anger returned, darkening his features. With a final look at Mutant 143, Stryker strode out of Cerebro, the door closing behind him with a foreboding slam. The room grew silent, save for the pulsing of the machine and the soft breathing of the mutants within.
Stryker emerged into the corridor outside of Cerebro which seemed cramped with his entourage. He looked like a General surveying his army with cold and calculating eyes.
"Set the charges. Every entry and exit point, the dam supports, everything important you can get a charge on." he barked at the soldiers, who immediately jumped to attention, nodding and dispersing quickly.
He then turned to face Cyclops. The visored mutant stood still, waiting for orders. Stryker leaned in close, his voice low enough that the others couldn't hear. "Go to the mutant prisoners. And make sure they all die."
Cyclops gave a faint nod, turning on his heel and marching away without hesitation.
Stryker's gaze shifted to Tyson. Pointing at the entrance to Cerebro, he said, "Guard this with your life. Attack anyone who approaches you."
Tyson grunted, positioning himself squarely in front of the entrance, his frame tense and ready.
Stryker glanced at the group of identical blonde mutants standing by him. "You five stay with him. Make sure noone gets through these doors."
He then addressed the lethal pair by his side. "Yuriko, Red," he paused, locking eyes with each in turn, "With me."
With his orders delivered, Stryker confidently walked down the corridor, Yuriko and Omega Red trailing behind him.