Nick Fury paused for a second, then rolled his eye in disgust. "Don't worry about how many people I've saved. We're talking about King Locke." His tone sharpened as he jabbed a finger at the documents on the table. "Can't you see it? His power is completely unchecked, and so is his authority. I'd bet everything that he and that bastard Obama are hiding some filthy secret between them. The two of them are probably working together to siphon off the property of the American people while putting the entire country in danger."
He drew in a breath, forcing himself to calm down before continuing. "Just look at what happened over the last two days. Because of Obama's incompetence, the United States lost three aircraft carriers in a single disaster. Do you even understand what that means? Without the protection of the U.S. military, whole regions around the world will collapse into chaos."
Steve let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Listening to you, I'd think I was sitting across from a politician, not a spymaster." He folded his arms over his chest, his expression flat but contemptuous. "You reek of the same kind of decayed imperial arrogance I used to hear from men who sent soldiers to die and then blamed the survivors for not following procedure."
His eyes hardened as he stared straight at Fury. "I've seen your type before. Men fight and bleed on the front lines to win a war, then people like you stand safely behind them and lecture everyone about discipline, optics, and rules."
Fury's bloodshot eye narrowed, and a sneer spread across his face. "Think whatever you want about me. I've always put the safety of the world first." He leaned forward, voice dropping into something harsher and more dangerous. "What about you? I'm giving you a chance to help take this world back from a hypocrite, and you're still hesitating. What exactly are you waiting for?"
Steve kept staring at him, calm and unflinching. "Why should I trust you?"
Fury barked out a curse, suddenly shoving back his chair and drawing a gun. In one smooth motion he leveled it at Steve's head, the muzzle steady and cold. "You're not afraid I'll pull the trigger, Steve Rogers?"
Steve didn't even blink. "Go ahead." His voice remained level, almost bored. "The second you do, you'll be the one who dies."
For a long moment Fury said nothing. Then, just as abruptly, he burst out laughing and lowered the gun. "That sounds more like the Captain America I was expecting." He flicked a business card across the table and let it slide to a stop in front of Steve. "You want to see what the world looks like now? Fine. Go see it yourself."
He tapped the card with one finger. "That's Howard Stark's son, Tony Stark. He'll help you get your bearings. And when you finally see how powerful the Avengers really are—and how dangerous Locke has become—I hope you'll come back and help us."
Steve glanced down at the card but didn't reach for it right away. "I can't promise that," he said after a beat. "Some people are obviously in the wrong, but they're too far gone to recognize it."
A cold light flashed in Fury's eye. "It won't be me," he said flatly. "For your sake, I hope it won't be you either."
A few hours later, Fury stood in silence and watched Steve's retreating figure disappear into the distance. Only after he was gone did Agent Hill step out from behind him, her expression unreadable but troubled.
"Chief, are you sure he'll come back?" she asked quietly.
"It doesn't matter," Fury replied.
Hill frowned. "Why not?"
"Because I already planted the seed." Fury turned slightly, his coat shifting with the motion. "Doubt is enough. Once it's in his head, it'll grow on its own."
Hill was quiet for a second, then looked at him more carefully. Fury's face seemed even more gaunt than usual, his exhaustion buried under stubborn will. He turned all the way toward her and spoke in a low voice.
"Hill, you shouldn't have come to me. Not now." His gaze sharpened. "Even if you were sitting in federal prison with Coulson and Natasha, that would've been safer than standing beside me."
She didn't flinch. "Why?"
"Because what I'm about to do is too dangerous." Fury paused, and for the first time there was something close to unease in his voice. "The more I dig into Locke, the less sense he makes. The man doesn't even feel human anymore."
Hill glanced upward, toward the distant ceiling and the invisible sky beyond it. "Then why fight him at all? Why not leave Earth and let someone else deal with him?"
Fury's face tightened. "Because I'm not a deserter." The words came out hard, like iron dragged across stone. "I'm going to do everything I can to wake this world up. And even if I fail, I'll make sure that man understands one thing—that there are still people on this planet who will never kneel."
He drew in a slow breath, steadying himself. "Is the Injustice League ready?"
Hill let out a soft sigh, the kind that came from someone who already knew the answer wouldn't change anything. "Are you really going through with this? A lot of innocent people are going to get hurt."
"I have to," Fury said. "As for collateral damage…" He looked away for a moment, his jaw set. "There's nothing I can do about it."
With that, Nick Fury turned and strode off without another word.
…
Night had fallen over Alcatraz, and the sea around the island was dark and restless beneath the moonlight. High above it, a stealth fighter sliced through the sky in total silence, invisible to ordinary radar and nearly impossible to spot even with the naked eye.
Then a beam of light flashed down from the aircraft.
In an instant, the entire Worthington facility was plunged into darkness.
Alarms blared. Emergency systems failed to engage. Inside the base, confusion erupted as personnel shouted over each other in the blackness, scrambling to understand what had happened.
The stealth fighter descended quietly and touched down with eerie precision. A few shadows stepped out into the night air, and at the front of them all was Nick Fury.
He turned to a middle-aged man in a leather jacket and gave a short nod. "Doppelganger. Your turn."
The man grinned, and his body gave a strange, rippling shudder. Then two identical copies stepped out of him as if they'd been split from the same flesh. The clones moved without hesitation, entering a nearby room and returning moments later carrying crates of weapons.
The original clone spread his arms proudly. "I'm a one-man army."
As soon as the words left his mouth, more duplicates began peeling away from his body one after another. They emerged in rapid succession, each one armed almost immediately, until dozens of identical men stood in formation before Fury, all holding rifles.
The clone laughed, pleased with himself. "And this still isn't my limit. Next time, bring more guns."
"Enough," Fury said coldly. "You clear the path. Move."
Inside the base, Locke had been waiting for quite some time.
Unlike Fury's people, the Avengers had no trouble getting into a facility like this. They were a government-recognized superhero team with authority, access, and more than enough strength to kick down whatever door they needed. By the time Fury's group arrived, Locke and the others were already inside.
Professor Xavier was there, along with Storm, Phoenix, Cyclops, Colossus, and several others. Wolverine was conspicuously absent, and for good reason. Standing in front of them was a bald little boy with a frail body and an expression that seemed too tired for his age.
Jimmy.
His codename was Leech, and anyone who entered his range would lose their mutant powers.
If Wolverine got too close, his healing factor would be suppressed immediately. And without that constant regeneration, the adamantium fused to his skeleton would become a source of unimaginable agony.
Everyone in the room looked at Jimmy with complicated expressions.
Charles studied the boy in silence for a few moments before turning to Locke. "What are you planning to do with him?"
"Take him back to the Alliance base," Locke replied.
Charles' brows drew together. "And then?"
"Feed him, house him, send him to school." Locke said it like the answer should've been obvious.
The professor fell quiet.
Locke widened his eyes and stared at him. "No way. Professor, are you seriously thinking about killing him?"
"…No," Charles said after a pause.
The moment he saw Jimmy, Charles had understood the danger. And after brushing the thoughts of the facility's personnel, he'd already uncovered the truth. The compound they were extracting from Jimmy's body was being treated as a mutant cure—an antidote.
If that drug spread, countless frightened parents of newborn mutants would choose normality over uncertainty. They'd line their children up and erase the gene before those children ever had the chance to decide for themselves.
Locke smiled faintly. "Professor, have you ever thought about opening a mutant rehabilitation center?"
Charles blinked. "What?"
"Use Xavier's name. Build up the school's reputation. Let mutants all over the world know there's a place they can go." Locke's tone stayed casual, but his words hit hard. "Tell them Xavier's School has a way to turn mutants into ordinary people. If they want the treatment, they get the treatment. If they don't, they can stay mutants and live at the school."
"No!"
Storm's voice cracked through the room like thunder. Her eyes were blazing. "Mutation is not a disease. We don't need a cure. This is a gift from God."
Locke looked at her and smiled without warmth. "Is it really a gift? Or does it only feel like one to people like you?"
He took a step forward, his voice cutting deeper with every sentence. "You're lucky. You're beautiful, powerful, admired. Of course you call it evolution. Of course you call it a blessing. But have you ever once stopped to think about the majority of mutants?"
Storm's expression shifted, but she said nothing.
Locke sneered. "Most of them don't get cool powers. They don't become living storms or walking lasers. A lot of them just become ugly. Deformed. Miserable. Half-human in a world that refuses to accept them." He gestured toward Jimmy. "Look at him. He's still a kid. He has no hair, no life, and he's spent years locked in a lab. Do you think he's happy to be special?"
The room fell silent.
"Would he rather be gifted," Locke went on, "or just normal?" His tone turned colder. "A lot of mutants aren't heroes. They aren't gods. They're just people trapped in bodies that ruined their lives. Humans reject them, mutants overlook them, and they spend every day isolated and in pain. Did any of you think about that?"
Storm stood there stunned. So did the others.
Locke kept pressing. "You and Magneto are both elites among mutants. But why do either of you get to decide for everyone else?" He looked from face to face, making sure every word landed. "If a single injection can get rid of blue skin, fur, scales, tails, or whatever else made their life hell, then why shouldn't they be allowed to choose it?"
Storm swallowed hard. "That… that isn't right…"
"There's nothing wrong with choice," Locke said. Then he turned to Charles. "You tell them, Professor. Have you ever entered the minds of the weakest mutants? The ugliest ones? The ones no one wants to see?" His gaze sharpened. "What do they think? Is mutation a blessing—or a curse? Answer honestly."
Charles remained silent.
Locke spread his hands. "Exactly. The answer is loud enough already."
Phoenix pressed a hand to her head, shaken. "Professor… why didn't you ever tell us?"
Charles hesitated, his voice uneven. "Because we… couldn't do anything."
Locke shook his head. "That's right. There are too many mutants in this world, and all you've managed to protect are the few dozen inside your school. Meanwhile, the rest are feared, experimented on, dragged away, and broken." He flicked a hand dismissively. "If you actually want to help your people, then follow me and save the world. The best chance mutants have right now is to become heroes the whole world admires."
By then, the sounds of fighting had begun echoing through the facility. The enemy had arrived.
Locke opened the Absolute Zero Zone and motioned to Jimmy. "Come on. Go inside and get some sleep. When you wake up, you'll be free." Then he looked back toward Xavier. "Time to work, Professor. Go arrest these mutant lunatics."
Charles' eyes narrowed suddenly, and his brows drew together. "No," he said, his voice tense. "I can't stop them."
Locke froze for just a second, suspicion flashing across his mind.
Then several figures appeared at the entrance.
Nick Fury walked in first.
Seeing the strange looks on everyone's faces, Fury broke into a satisfied smile. "Professor Xavier," he said smoothly, "starting to doubt yourself already?"
He lifted a hand and tapped the specialized headset covering his ear. "This tech is centuries beyond anything on Earth. Shame there aren't many of them. Otherwise, I'd hand one out to every person on the planet."
Cyclops took a step forward, jaw tight. "You think because the Professor can't touch you, you can handle all of us?"
Fury grinned. "Who said the Professor was the only one I came prepared for?" He tilted his head slightly and gave a single command. "Pulse."
A blue shockwave flashed across the room.
Cyclops instinctively touched his body, expecting pain or injury, but found none. Then his face changed. The red glow at the edge of his vision was fading. His optic power was disappearing.
Behind him, the same realization spread through Storm, Phoenix, and the others. Their abilities were fading too.
Fury snorted. "Did you really think that little boy was the only way to shut your powers down? The mutant standing beside me can do the same thing." His smile sharpened. "The effect doesn't last as long, but it doesn't need to. It's enough."
For the first time, open panic flashed across the faces of Cyclops and Storm.
Only then did Locke step forward, calm as ever. "So that's your real setup," he said, his tone almost amused. "Your target was never that kid. It was us." His eyes locked onto Fury's face, sharp and probing. "Did you finally figure out there's a mole standing next to you?"
....
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