X-GENE OMNITRIX-Chapter 56: XGO - 54

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The Blackbird, sleek and silent as a hunting hawk, touched down on the scarred south lawn of the Xavier Institute, its advanced cloaking technology dissolving like mist moments before its landing struts met the scorched grass. The main ramp lowered with a soft hydraulic hiss, revealing Jean Grey, Storm, Beast, and a visibly weakened but fiercely resolute Magneto. Behind them emerged the remnants of the Brotherhood contingent that had aided in Magneto's rescue—Quill, her spikes retracted but her posture wary; Anole, his reptilian scales shifting nervously; Masque, his features unnervingly placid; and Azazel, his hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his cutlass.

They stepped out into a scene of chilling desolation that stopped them cold. The proud mansion, a symbol of hope for so many, stood violated. Jagged blast marks marred the elegant stonework like angry scars. Windows gaped open, shards of glass littering the ground like fallen tears. The massive, reinforced oak front doors, once a symbol of welcome and security, hung splintered and broken from their hinges, ripped partially from the frame. The acrid smell of burnt materials and ozone hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint, unmistakable metallic tang of spilled blood . Scattered across the lawn were the detritus of battle—discarded plasticuffs, smoking fragments of black tactical gear, spent energy casings, twisted pieces of metal that might have been suppression emitters. But the most unnerving element was the profound, echoing silence. The complete absence of life where there should have been dozens.

"No..." Jean whispered again, the sound catching in her throat. Her telepathic senses swept the grounds desperately, a frantic search for familiar mental signatures—Logan's stubborn resilience, Rogue's turbulent mix of fear and power, the bright, chaotic chorus of the students' thoughts. She found only hollowness. Residual psychic echoes of terror, pain, desperate resistance, and then... abrupt silence. "They're gone. All of them. I can't feel anyone."

Beast knelt, his large, blue-furred hand gently picking up a discarded, heavy-duty suppression collar near the steps. He examined its complex circuitry. "Military issue, advanced design," he confirmed grimly, his scientific mind cataloging the evidence even as his heart ached. "Far more powerful than standard law enforcement models. They came prepared for Omega-level resistance." He sniffed the air, his enhanced senses painting a grim picture. "Multiple scents confirm heavy troop presence. Human soldiers, several unknown mutant signatures. And Logan... his scent is everywhere here. He fought like a cornered bear."

Storm ascended gracefully, hovering twenty feet above the lawn, her eyes scanning the damaged building, the surrounding woods, the sky. A low rumble of thunder echoed overhead, reflecting her rising anger. "There is no one left," she confirmed, her voice tight, controlled. "The mansion is empty. They took them all."

Magneto stood rigidly, his iconic helmet shielding his thoughts but not the cold, simmering fury radiating from him like a magnetic field. He extended a gloved hand, palm upward. Across the lawn, metallic debris—shrapnel, bullet casings, broken hinges, even the nails from the shattered doorframe—lifted into the air. They vibrated with contained energy, swirling around him like a swarm of angry, metallic insects, forming sharp, deadly projectiles aimed at nothing... and everything. "Stryker," he spat the name, each syllable laced with decades of hatred. "He played us all for fools. While we were occupied with my 'rescue,' he executed his true objective. He needed Charles... and now he has the means to weaponize his dream against us."

Just as Beast began meticulously analyzing the energy signatures left on the scorch marks, trying to identify the specific capabilities of Task Force X, the air behind the assembled group shimmered violently. Reality seemed to buckle, colors bleeding at the edges before a vortex of swirling emerald and black energy tore open with the sound of ripping spacetime. Alex stepped through the portal onto the violated lawn, his landing silent, economical. His eyes, cold and hard as glacial ice, swept across the scene—the damaged mansion, the evidence of a brutal battle, the chilling absence of life—and narrowed into dangerous slits. His presence was an immediate, palpable force, a low hum of contained power that made the air feel dense, charged.

The moment Magneto registered Alex's arrival, the swirling metal debris around him froze mid-air, then snapped into sharp focus, dozens of lethal projectiles—jagged shards of the suppression emitters, twisted pieces of tactical gear, even the steel reinforcing rods from shattered stonework—instantly aimed at the newcomer. The atmosphere crackled with intense, immediate hostility, a palpable pressure that made the air thick and hard to breathe. Decades of ideological warfare, a history marred by violence, and the fresh, raw memory of their near-fatal battle at the Statue of Liberty —where Alex had very nearly sent Magneto to his final rest—ignited between them like volatile chemicals meeting an open flame. The Brotherhood members instinctively shifted, forming a bristling, defensive line behind their leader, Azazel's cutlass now fully drawn, its wickedly curved edge gleaming, Quill's body a porcupine of extended bone spikes, ready to defend Magneto to the death.

"YOU!" Magneto's voice was a low, dangerous growl, amplified by his helmet, vibrating with unrestrained, murderous hatred. The metal shards trembled violently with his fury, humming with contained magnetic force. "You dare show your face here, Isolationist? The Death Bringer?" He spat the epithets Alex had earned among his enemies, each word dripping with venom. "After abandoning your kind to their fate? While Xavier's children—children who foolishly believed in his pathetic dream of peace—were dragged away like cattle by human soldiers, you hid in your frozen fortress, safe and untouched! You are a coward and a disgrace to your own power!"

Alex met Magneto's incandescent rage with an unnerving, almost predatory calm. A slow, deliberate smirk—sharp and dangerous, reminiscent of a predator toying with its prey—played on his lips. His own immense power remained tightly leashed, a coiled serpent beneath a placid surface, but its presence was a tangible pressure, making the air around him grow perceptibly colder. "Oh, look who it is," Alex drawled, his voice dangerously quiet, yet cutting through the tension like a shard of obsidian, each syllable dripping with mock surprise and barely veiled contempt. "Erik Lehnsherr, Master of Magnetism, and apparently, Master of Getting Captured. Last time you aimed that much metal at me, old man," he continued, his smirk widening into something wolfish, "I recall putting one of your feet squarely in the grave. Feeling brave enough to offer the other one today? Or perhaps," Alex tilted his head, eyes glinting with dark amusement, "this time I'll just bury you whole. Save everyone the trouble of another 'rescue'."

He took a small, deliberate step forward, hands casually in his pockets, the picture of nonchalant menace. "I protect those under my direct care, Lehnsherr. A responsibility, I might add, that Charles consistently fumbled. This little mess? It's just the inevitable, predictable outcome of his naive philosophy. He preached coexistence while serving up his students as sacrificial lambs on the altar of human tolerance." Alex's eyes, cold and hard as glacial ice, locked onto Magneto's. "And you? You weren't here to stop it, were you? Too busy playing the victim again, I presume."

The insult, delivered with such casual cruelty, struck home like a physical blow. Magneto's face, visible beneath the iconic helmet, contorted in a mask of pure fury. With a guttural roar that was more beast than man, he thrust his hands forward. The cloud of metal spears surrounding him, now supercharged with his rage, shot forward with the speed and lethality of ballistic missiles, converging on Alex from all directions, intent on tearing him limb from limb—

"ENOUGH!" Jean Grey's voice, amplified by a surge of raw telepathic power, slammed into their minds with the force of a psychic shockwave, cutting through their rage. Simultaneously, an invisible wall of telekinetic force erupted between Alex and the incoming metal projectiles, stopping them dead in mid-air just inches from him. The metal shrieked and buckled under the strain, vibrating intensely as Magneto's power fought against Jean's. Her eyes blazed with a fierce, crimson light—not the full Phoenix, but a terrifying glimpse of the power simmering beneath her control. The ground around her cracked, small pebbles levitating as she poured her will into holding back the two titans. "Stop it! Both of you!" she commanded, her mental voice echoing with pain and desperation. "Look around you! This is what they want! Stryker has played us all! He used the attack on the President to turn the world against us! He used Erik's capture to get information! He attacked this school to get the means to kill us all! We are fighting each other while he prepares to commit genocide!"

"She is right!" Storm landed softly beside Jean, her eyes glowing with the white light of contained atmospheric power, the air around her crackling audibly with static electricity. A low rumble of thunder underscored her words, a promise of nature's wrath held barely in check. "This division is precisely what our enemies desire! We must stand together now, or we will surely fall separately!"

Magneto hesitated, his fury battling his pragmatism. The metal projectiles froze inches from Alex, vibrating with restrained force, their sharp points glinting menacingly. Alex, likewise, held his ground, his own immense power simmering just beneath the surface, ready to erupt in defense. The animosity between them was a physical force, a palpable wave of hatred and mistrust, but Jean's desperate plea, backed by Storm's undeniable authority and the sheer gravity of the situation, forced a tense, fragile pause.

Quickly, concisely, Storm and Jean relayed the horrifying details they had pieced together—Stryker's capture of Xavier and Scott at Alkali Lake, Jason Stryker's terrifying illusion abilities, and the ultimate, unthinkable plan: to use Xavier, amplified by a stolen device from the school, to induce lethal psychic feedback in every mutant on the planet, a silent, undetectable genocide.

Alex listened, his expression hardening into an impassive mask of cold fury, though his eyes blazed with an intensity that seemed to burn away the surrounding shadows as the full scope of Stryker's depravity became clear. He hadn't known about the specific machine, only that technology vital to Stryker's plan was housed here. The goal—global mutant eradication—resonated with his deepest fears and convictions. "Ross attacked here under Stryker's orders," Alex stated, confirming their deductions, his voice clipped, precise. "Objective: retrieve technology vital to Stryker's plan. They captured everyone. Logan. Rogue." He shared the energy signature data his sanctuary had detected. "Rogue must have lost control fighting them. Unleashed the power she absorbed from me. It drew their attention."

The horrifying synergy of Stryker's plan snapped into focus for everyone present. A meticulously coordinated, two-pronged assault. Stryker secured the operator—Xavier. Ross secured the amplifier—the machine Alex now understood was the target. Now, all the pieces were in place for Stryker to attempt his final solution.

"Alkali Lake," Beast repeated, the name tasting like poison. He adjusted his glasses, his brilliant scientific mind already calculating the logistical nightmare, the tactical disadvantages. "Stryker has consolidated all his assets there. Xavier, Scott, Logan, Rogue, the students... and the amplification device. He likely intends to activate the machine from that secure, remote location."

"Then our objective is unavoidable," Magneto declared, the metal spears around him slowly lowering, retracting back into the scattered debris, though the magnetic field around him remained potent, watchful. He turned his piercing gaze from Alex, sweeping it across the assembled X-Men and his own Brotherhood members. "Our paths converge. For now." The last two words were laden with unspoken history and the certainty of future conflict, but the immediate, existential threat superseded all else.

Alex gave a single, curt nod, the gesture conveying cold, pragmatic agreement without a hint of warmth or forgiveness. Ideology was irrelevant. Children were hostages. Genocide was imminent. "They hold Xavier's students. They possess a weapon that could potentially threaten even my Sanctuary if amplified by Xavier's full power. Our objectives align."

"The Blackbird is our fastest transport," Jean stated, already turning towards the waiting jet, her relief at the fragile, volatile truce palpable. "We need to move now. We might only have hours, perhaps less."

"Indeed," Magneto agreed, striding towards the jet, his cape billowing dramatically behind him despite the lack of wind. The Brotherhood members fell in behind him, still casting wary, hostile glances toward Alex.

Alex paused for one final moment, his gaze sweeping over the violated mansion. Xavier's dream lay shattered, perhaps irrevocably. His methods, proven naive. But the children... they deserved rescue. He thought of Rogue, unconscious, captured, burdened with power she hadn't asked for. He thought of Logan, the indestructible warrior, caged. A cold, precise, surgical anger settled deep within him, focused and absolute. Stryker and Ross had signed their own death warrants.

He turned and strode towards the waiting jet, the unlikely, unstable alliance boarding together, united only by desperation and the looming shadow of extinction, as the first distant police sirens began their mournful, irrelevant wail. Time was a luxury they did not possess. The fate of mutantkind rested on their ability to reach Alkali Lake before Stryker unleashed his silent, global nightmare.