Locke heard Jack's voice and snapped back to reality, turning his head toward the window. Outside, a twelve-story, weathered apartment building came into view, its yellowed, peeling walls a stark contrast to the sleek black vehicles outside.
Superpowers could wait. First, they had work to do. Locke took a deep breath and calmed himself.
"Get out of the car."
"Dong."
As he stepped onto the asphalt, the doors of the three black vans swung open. Fully armed Sentinel SWATs, specially trained for mutant operations, filed out in perfect formation, faces blank, movements precise.
"Locke."
"Brown."
Locke's eyes met the approaching SWAT captain, Brown. The New York Sentinel Secret Service had ten special forces teams in total, and Brown's unit was Locke's designated squad. Most agents preferred working with teams they knew; Locke had no exception.
Brown had once been a Marine. When his wife was killed in an accident caused by the awakening of mutants—three months pregnant at the time—he joined the Sentinel Service, vowing vengeance. Now, armed with the X-energy suppression rifle specifically designed to neutralize mutants, he approached Locke with grim purpose.
"Which floor?"
"Debbie."
Locke ignored Brown's personal grudge. Instead, he surveyed the peeling walls of the apartment before turning to Debbie, who was approaching from behind. "Have you got any information on the suspect?"
This operation wasn't technically his. He had been planning to step back, but an informant had reported a mutant in this building, forcing him to work overtime. As a senior agent, maintaining a low profile in mutant apprehensions kept him under the radar.
Debbie glanced at Brown. "1002, tenth floor—the informant said…"
Before she could finish, Brown, eyes glinting with bloodlust, loaded his X-energy suppression rifle and signaled the twelve special agents waiting nearby.
"1002, tenth floor!"
"Received!"
"Dog, dog, dog!"
Brown's personal vendetta had shaped his team. Most had lost loved ones to mutants, and the survivors carried the same burning desire for vengeance. With a single coordinated movement, they removed psychic-blocking masks and surged forward into the building.
Locke stayed back. Capturing ordinary suspects required only standard procedure. Mutants were different—arresting them demanded specialized skills.
"Boss."
Jack, who had pulled two metal cases from the trunk, came over, and Debbie took one of them. Jack ran toward the back of the apartment with the remaining case. Debbie squatted, opening her box to reveal a metal rod, hollow in the center and filled with dark blue liquid—the X-energy suppression rod.
The Sentinel Service's sole tool for neutralizing mutants, capable of suppressing abilities within a certain radius. Effective only against mutants below gamma level, the rod addressed the majority of threats—beta-class like Wolverine or alpha-class like Professor X were rare. The main targets were low-level mutants causing social unrest.
Debbie swung the rod and planted it firmly into the ground. A diamond-core at its tip buzzed as the dark blue liquid rose and began to glow. Jack had already positioned the second rod at the rear. With a popping sound, the two devices connected, sending faint blue ripples outward, like stones dropped into a still lake.
"Brown," Locke's voice crackled in his earpiece.
"It's okay," Brown replied, his tone low and tinged with bloodthirsty excitement.
Brown's grief and desire for revenge were personal, but Locke had no interest in killing mutants himself. From a strategic perspective, any points Brown earned counted as Locke's for his experiments. Killers and point collectors alike shared a simple arrangement: Brown kills, Locke gains. Everyone benefited.
Locke slipped his hands into his pockets and lifted his gaze toward the tenth floor, waiting for the system's prompt to signal extraordinary points gained.
"Right."
He turned to Debbie. "Does your informant know what mutant ability we're dealing with this time?"
Recalling the report, Debbie said, "Not in detail, but the informant mentioned that Lindsay Perrin was robbed yesterday and shot three times. Everyone thought he was dead, but he's still alive today, so the informant suspects he's a mutant."
Three gunshots and still alive? Immortality, rapid healing? That could be a very useful ability. Locke's interest sharpened.
"Did your informant see Lindsay Perrin being shot?"
"Yes."
"And he was at the scene yesterday?"
"Yes," Debbie confirmed, looking at Locke. "He's the robber who fired the gun. He cut a deal with us—he handed over the mutant, and we helped him secure a non-prosecution agreement with the district attorney."
Locke: "…"