Chapter 124: The Mutants' Nightmare — The Sentinels
Clang!
The final mutant stabbed Colonel Stryker's corpse with trembling hands, then yanked the knife out in a panic. He let go, allowing the weapon to clatter to the ground.
Apocalypse was very pleased with the decision the mutants had made.
With a casual wave of his hand, the dagger dissolved into sand and dust, and Stryker's corpse disintegrated along with it.
"Children, it's time to go home."
As soon as he spoke, a teleportation field enveloped everyone, instantly transporting them to the Hydra base.
Next came the indispensable process—unlocking their potential one by one.
Magneto, who lacked the conditions for an elite path, was of no concern in Apocalypse's eyes.
No matter how weak a mutant's ability might be, Apocalypse could elevate them to a whole new level.
Having the power to awaken one's potential meant he could mass-produce elite fighters at will.
"Hey, Loony, why don't you give it a shot too? Maybe it'll fix your face," Allen suggested.
"Nutjob, my face can't be fixed. That was Marvel's editorial choice. Besides, my regeneration has already been maxed out by constantly getting myself killed. There's really nothing left to push further," Wade replied.
Wade was well aware he had reached his limit. Awakening potential involved numerous factors—most of which he had already experienced.
And thanks to frequent use of his ability, its full power had naturally surfaced over time.
Moreover, Deadpool's powers were passive. They didn't require deliberate training; they were uncontrollable by nature.
Allen sighed in disappointment. "That's such a shame. I really wanted to meet the greatest Green Lantern—Hal."
"Shut up."
Wade bristled. "Mention that disgrace again and I swear I'll kill you."
"Sure thing, Green Lantern."
"…"
…
United States National Security Council
This organization handled national security and monitored threats of a supernatural nature.
Currently, the biggest crisis was the mutant issue.
Previously, Magneto had shifted an entire transoceanic bridge by himself—an event that caused mass panic.
Too many civilians witnessed it firsthand. There was no way to cover it up.
The bigger problem was how to restore the bridge. People weren't blind.
Soon, a video file was transmitted to the agents' inboxes.
News of the Weapon X research base's downfall and Colonel Stryker's death quickly spread internally.
The storm of the previous incident had barely settled when another mutant-related crisis struck—prompting deep dissatisfaction among the higher-ups.
Repeated provocations were nothing short of a direct challenge to the ruling authorities' power.
Still, Stryker's actions couldn't be brought to light.
After Charles's last negotiation, the government had formally agreed to halt Weapon X research. But in reality, they had resumed operations in secret. Whichever way they spun it, they were in the wrong.
The National Security Council, being a state-run structure, oversaw the Eye of Providence to counterbalance S.H.I.E.L.D.
A nation's safety couldn't rely on an uncontrollable organization. Thus, parallel departments had long been in development.
Under the spotlight—
The five top-ranking Council Chiefs unanimously decided to initiate a mutant purge program.
Eliminate threats before they could take root.
Their security philosophy was simple: don't wait until a threat evolves into a crisis—strike at the first sign of danger.
A middle-aged man, less than a meter tall, entered the meeting hall accompanied by two bodyguards in suits.
Despite his dwarfism and physical disability, all five chiefs regarded him with great solemnity and respect.
Bolivar Trask, a leading expert in mechanical bionics and chairman of Trask Industries, viewed mutants as an existential threat to human society.
"I've already heard about Stryker," Trask began. "It's a terrible loss. Another comrade gone on the path we share."
He began with a show of mourning.
Trask and Stryker had a relationship akin to that of mentor and protégé, bonded by their shared belief that mutants were a cancer in human society—one that must be eradicated by any means necessary.
"Doctor, please get to the point," one of the chiefs interrupted.
They wanted to see weapons capable of handling mutants—not a eulogy.
To them, mourning the dead was pointless. Solving the crisis at hand was all that mattered.
"As a precaution, let me first show you our latest advancement—a gene sensor specifically designed for mutants."
Trask pulled out a palm-sized, white oval-shaped device from his pocket and waved it over the group while explaining: "If a mutant is present, the green light turns red. The closer the mutant, the more lights illuminate."
After completing a scan, Trask calmly put the device away, relieved that no mutant had infiltrated their ranks.
He was well aware that Mystique could take the form of anyone—making her practically undetectable without such tools.
Then he opened a briefcase and handed out files to the five chiefs.
One of them frowned upon reading. "Sentinel robots again?"
Clearly, they had already reviewed the Sentinel Program in the past.
Back then, the Sentinels' overall capabilities were unimpressive, and the costs were sky-high. It felt like spending a fortune on scrap metal.
"Take a closer look. These are fifth-generation Sentinels."
Trask lifted a file and highlighted the key points:
"These new Sentinels are hive-designed and controlled by the Skynet supercomputer. Each unit can mimic elements and change form, allowing them to adapt to different mutant abilities. Upon contact, they collect data and upload it to Skynet, which shares it across the Sentinel army.
"On top of that, the units are perfectly sealed, made with reinforced ceramic alloy, and equipped with magma engines. They can operate for up to 500 hours and fly at Mach 1 speed."
As the chiefs read the technical specifications, their minds raced.
The fifth-gen Sentinels weren't just useful against mutants—they could serve as advanced war machines.
Once they gathered enough combat data, they could adapt to any battlefield scenario.
"Elemental mimicry and shapeshifting? Isn't that a bit exaggerated?" one chief questioned.
The first-gen Sentinels had looked like cheap plastic toys. These new models sounded like pure sci-fi. Was there really no technological barrier?
Trask replied with confidence, "Over the past several years, I've acquired multiple research institutions and assembled a development team. Every member graduated from a top-ten engineering university. We invest over $10 billion annually into R&D. You're welcome to inspect our results anytime."
"How long does it take to manufacture one Sentinel?"
"Trask Industries has ten prepped factories. If the government places an order, our production lines can run 24/7 and yield twenty Sentinels per day."
In truth, Trask had prepared long ago. Most components were stockpiled, just waiting for the official green light to begin assembly and roll-out.
"Start with one hundred units for field testing. We'll evaluate the results before deciding on future orders."
"No problem."
Trask maintained a calm demeanor, but inwardly, he could hardly contain his joy.
The Sentinels answered to Skynet, and Skynet's highest-level access rested solely with him.
Which meant—the government would foot the bill, and he'd end up with a personal army of Sentinels.
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