Ever since he learned that his mutant ability was capped at level two, George had been strategizing on how to maximize his powers.
Unlike Magneto, he couldn't stop or deflect a hail of bullets or missiles, couldn't lift tens of thousands of tons, couldn't fly by manipulating magnetic fields, or alter the Earth's magnetic pull.
However, he also thought that the method the base instructor had taught him—using a dagger for assassination—was simply too basic.Using a dagger wasn't as effective as using a needle; at least he could control more of them, and at a faster speed. Although the damage might be less, targeting crucial points like the eyes and ears would still be effective.
After much thought, he realized that firearms would be the best way to unleash his magnetic powers.
A bullet fired from a gun had much higher speed and damage compared to any sharp weapon he could control. By slightly altering a bullet's trajectory, he could become a sharpshooter beyond the limits of any ordinary human.He was currently using submachine guns, but if he could strengthen his powers to control the trajectories of heavy machine gun bullets in the future, that would be impressive indeed.
A true one-man army—he could hold an entire base on his own.
"Go, quickly!"
With over half of his two magazines emptied and all guards in the cafeteria down, George waved at the stunned Gabriela and the puzzled Laura.
"Laura, let's go."
Gabriela, snapping out of it, rushed forward, pulling Laura along as they ran toward George.
She recognized Subject 757, though unlike the other mutant children, this adult mutant required no care from the nurses, as he had his own handlers.
But since he was helping them, he certainly wasn't an enemy.
With Gabriela and Laura in tow, they sprinted until they caught up with the other children. George stayed cautious, aware that the facility's guards wouldn't let them go that easily.
The guards hadn't anticipated this situation, so they were still struggling to respond fully.
Plus, they might deploy stronger, more advanced weapons.
As impressive as he'd looked with those two submachine guns, taking down a group of guards in the blink of an eye was mostly due to Laura drawing fire and giving him the chance to ambush.
Honestly, his current state would be helpless against a sniper.
Some specialized Barrett heavy sniper rifles could penetrate thick concrete walls with armor-piercing rounds; if he were sniped from a distance, his magnetic powers wouldn't be able to deflect it, and he might be dead before he even had a chance to react.
So, now was no time to relax.
Fortunately, the path ahead was clear, with no snipers or the feared Wolverine clone. They soon reached the exterior of the lab facility.
"Do you know where the lab's most critical labs and records rooms are located?"
After helping the kids into the truck bed, George didn't get in immediately. Instead, he turned to Gabriela.
She looked a bit puzzled but quickly pointed out two locations.
"Over there, and there."
"Perfect. Let's leave them a little gift before we go."
Opening his backpack, George took out a dozen grenades he'd gathered from the corpses of the guards.
Besides the grenades, his pack also contained some cash he had pocketed to ensure he wouldn't be penniless on the outside.
"Hope you like it."
Using his power, he precisely guided the grenades to the two locations Gabriela had pointed out, pulling the pins mid-air.
Moments later, an intense explosion resounded, turning those two areas of the lab into a blazing inferno.
"Let's go!"
With his goal achieved, George finally climbed into the truck with a wide-eyed Gabriela. His aim was simple: if he could kill any high-ranking personnel, great. If not, the chaos and destroyed data would delay their pursuers.
And he succeeded.
An hour later, Dr. Rice, covered in soot and dirt, slapped Commander Donald across the face, bellowing in fury:
"Imbecile! I assigned you to handle this trash, and look what you did! Most of them escaped, and my precious research is in ruins! If it weren't for X-24 still being safe, I'd throw you into the incinerator myself!"
"Boss, it was my mistake. I hadn't anticipated the nurses would help them escape," Donald responded, showing no reaction to the pain, merely bowing his head respectfully.
Dr. Rice took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and ordered coldly:
"What's done is done. I don't want your excuses. I want you to retrieve those mutant kids as quickly as possible and terminate them. We can't risk them being found by other organizations."
As a high-ranking figure in a globally recognized company with ties to various terrorist groups, Dr. Rice understood that the world was anything but simple, especially with a behemoth like S.H.I.E.L.D. in existence.
If S.H.I.E.L.D. discovered these mutants, they'd eventually trace them back to him, which would be disastrous.
Until he could mass-produce mutants, he wasn't ready to take on S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Report to me with updates at all times. If necessary, I'll bring X-24 to assist, as it'll be a good test of X-24's combat capabilities."
"Yes, boss!"
Donald nodded, then left the half-destroyed lab to gather his team.
"What were the investigation results?"
"Commander, our findings indicate that Subject 757 was responsible."
A squad leader quickly recounted the findings.
Donald frowned.
"Him? A mere level-two mutant with that kind of power?"
He had commanded the operation, so he knew the situation firsthand.
Even with the nurses' help, those mutant kids should have been contained. His reinforcements should have been able to corner them in the cafeteria.
Yet, after a burst of gunfire, his team went radio-silent.
He had been about to deploy additional forces when the explosions drew him back.
One of the explosions had been dangerously close to the boss's lab; he couldn't afford not to check it out.
"It seems certain. Captain Beiss, who was assigned to deal with 757, was killed. Although 757 destroyed all surveillance along his path, our trace analysts found evidence of his presence leading to the cafeteria."
The squad leader added, "From the bodies we examined, most died from gunshots rather than knife wounds, and almost all were instantly lethal shots."
"A sharpshooter? But he shouldn't have that ability," Donald muttered, frowning in confusion.
Mutants with sharpshooting potential typically possessed either enhanced vision or reflexes, and as far as he knew, Subject 757's abilities were psychic and magnetic manipulation.
"This is something perhaps the boss can explain."Donald only understood battlefield tactics, not the intricacies of mutant abilities—that was the boss's area of expertise.
He considered questioning the boss but ultimately decided against it, remembering his lingering anger.
Besides, even if Subject 757 was a sharpshooter, without specialized training, it wasn't that big a deal anyway.