No saddle, no reins—Jean felt really out of her element. She could only grip the horse's sides tightly with her legs.
Out of the five riders, everyone else could ride. Elsa knew how—she was a queen, after all. Riding was a necessary skill for any noble in ancient times.
Liu A'dou and Ada Wong didn't even need to be mentioned. As a phantom thief and a special agent, they had to be ready for all kinds of terrain and escape scenarios. Mastering all sorts of transportation was just part of the job.
Wolverine could ride because he was an old relic—born in 1832. Back then, before the American Civil War, horses were the main mode of transport. Even though Wolverine had amnesia, muscle memory didn't forget.
Jean was the only one out of her depth. Without stirrups, she needed Wolverine's help just to get on the horse. But they were in a hurry—no time to fuss. They galloped at full speed.
Wolverine led the group. His nose would guide the others and ensure they stayed on the right path. "Yah!"
They weaved through the woods at breakneck speed, ducking under low branches. Slowly but surely, they neared the forest's edge. It was already dusk.
Meanwhile, Stryker's son, who also had telepathy, had been turned into a human lab rat by his own father. Now this poor boy was fully under Stryker's control, just a puppet with no will of his own, sustained only by a nutrient system built into his wheelchair.
Professor X had been fitted with a device that suppressed his brainwaves. He was completely passive, trapped in his own illusion. In the dream, he could walk again and was at Xavier's School, befriending a little girl. The girl gently coaxed him to "find more mutants," and to "bring them together as friends."
He was being mentally steered closer and closer to the Cerebro chamber—bringing Stryker one step closer to his goal of wiping out every mutant. With Lady Deathstrike and his mindless, reprogrammed son at his side, Stryker's plan was airtight. They had no emotions—just obedient tools immune to Cerebro's effects. When it was over, Stryker would be the only one holding the power of mutants. He would clone and raise his own army—an unstoppable mutant force with no minds of their own, obeying only his orders.
But Nightcrawler, the circus-born mutant, hadn't undergone such "processing," and therefore had no place in that vision. He would have to be eliminated.
Still, mutants wouldn't just sit around waiting to die.
"Look at that. When we really need the X-Men, they're nowhere to be found. In the end, we still have to save ourselves."
"What do we do, Magneto?"
It was Magneto and Mystique. Mystique had taken Stryker's form to track down Magneto and uncover his hidden base. Once found, she got the truth out of him—about Professor X and the Cerebro machine. Magneto knew Stryker's plan was to use them to kill every mutant, so the moment he escaped prison, he made his way here.
"Mystique, sneak inside and find Charles. I'll deal with Stryker myself." Magneto didn't even bother hiding. He walked straight to the dam's entrance and, with a wave of his hand, the steel doors opened on their own.
Inside, a heavily armed mutant extermination squad waited—but bullets were useless against Magneto. Worse, they gave him weapons. The rounds they fired bounced back, killing their own men. Dying by your own bullets—there was no more ironic end.
"Fall back, that's Magneto! Bullets are useless!" Stryker shouted through the comms as he watched everything from his monitor. "Magneto, not even a plastic prison can hold you, huh?"
"Stryker, I'm not here for banter. Tell me—where is Charles?" Magneto's voice echoed through the corridors. He knew Stryker could hear him.
Stryker just smirked and pulled open a drawer. He handed a ceramic knife to Nightcrawler. "Take off all the metal on you. Use this knife and kill Magneto."
Nightcrawler took the order. In a blink, he teleported behind Magneto, the white ceramic blade aimed straight for his back.
Magneto had been ready for this. Without even turning around, he raised a hand in front of his abdomen. A chunk of metal from the right wall shot out like a cannonball, slamming toward Nightcrawler from the side.
The metal moved faster than Nightcrawler. He had no choice but to teleport again to avoid it.
"Very good... That's quite an impressive ability," Magneto said with clear admiration for Nightcrawler's power—even if he was the enemy.
Nightcrawler reappeared above Magneto, his tail wrapped around the ceramic knife, stabbing down toward Magneto's chest.
But Magneto stayed calm. With a simple raise of his hand, a steel rod rose from beneath his feet like a snake and struck at Nightcrawler's tail. Though Nightcrawler's teleportation was powerful, the moment he materialized was his weakest. Magneto's control over metal was faster than Nightcrawler's physical strike.
The rod caught his tail and flung him away. In mid-air, Nightcrawler teleported again.
Magneto frowned. This power was annoying—almost impossible to hit. No trap could contain someone like that. As Magneto pondered a countermeasure, Nightcrawler came at him again.
Magneto deflected the attack easily once more. But he realized he couldn't just stall like this forever. He had to finish it—fast. Otherwise, this blue-skinned mutant would wear him down with endless harassment.
"Enough!"
Nightcrawler teleported in again. This time, Magneto unleashed his full strength. A metal fragment flew at lightning speed and struck Nightcrawler squarely on the temple. Just one hit, and he was out cold.
Magneto looked down at him and muttered, "Sorry, my brother... your ability left me no choice." If it were up to him, he would have preferred to recruit Nightcrawler. His skill would have been a great asset.
From the monitors, Stryker had seen everything. He knew that if he wanted to bring down Magneto, he'd have to command the operation himself. "Switch all weapons to plastic rifles. Load up on knockout gas."
This whole base was built with metal. That meant Magneto had the home-field advantage. If they weren't careful, he could wipe out their entire force.
Stryker personally led the renewed assault—but made sure to stay all the way at the back.
Magneto saw them coming and smirked. "Looks like you still haven't learned your lesson."
"Fire!" Stryker ordered.
Magneto raised a hand to deflect the bullets—only to realize the rounds were still flying toward him. Without hesitation, he tore up the floor to create a makeshift shield.
Turns out he had been wrong. They had learned their lesson—they were using plastic weapons.
Magneto tried to dismantle the guns, but it didn't work. The guns were made entirely of plastic. They were firing iron-core projectiles, but the guns themselves were immune to his powers.
"Fall back!" shouted the front-line troops as they took heavy casualties. The ones behind them tossed in tear gas grenades.
Magneto sneered and sent the canisters flying back at them.
"No choice. We have to use the final measure," Stryker muttered as he quickly retreated and discreetly pressed a remote button.
Tssst!
From the fire suppression nozzles above, poisonous gas began to pour down.
Magneto's eyes narrowed. He immediately sealed several of the sprinkler heads with pieces of metal. But it wasn't enough. The gas was engineered to flood the hallway as fast as possible.
He hadn't expected Stryker to risk exposure himself to lure him in—or to sacrifice an elite squad just to take him down.
The toxin was a potent neuroagent—just a trace could kill an elephant. Magneto managed to hold his breath in time, but his vision blurred, and his knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor.
The soldiers weren't so lucky. They dropped dead instantly.
Meanwhile, Professor X had finally been wheeled into Cerebro's chamber. The system was ready to initiate the global search at any moment.