Chapter 123: The Fall of Colonel Stryker
Stryker shuddered and turned toward the voice behind him.
Unbeknownst to him, a group of strangers had appeared, staring him down from behind.
Among them were none other than Allen and Wade—the two people he had dreamed day and night of eliminating.
"Relax, we're all old friends here," Allen said casually, stepping forward and draping a hand over Stryker's shoulder. He glanced at the clone inside the culture tank and asked curiously, "Care to introduce your new evil scheme?"
Wade, equally familiar, threw his arm over Stryker's other shoulder. "You cloning me again?"
Sandwiched between a madman and a lunatic, Stryker froze, too terrified to move a muscle.
"You've got five more brothers now, Wade," Allen teased.
Wade, already fuming, raised his gun at Stryker and demanded, "You that obsessed with me?"
"Don't be rash. Let's talk this out," Stryker replied nervously.
Just then, Apocalypse stepped forward. Upon seeing the clone, he raised a hand and used his power to decompose the material, instantly destroying the ultimate Weapon X. He had always despised technological creations—after all, his goal was to return the world to a primitive state, where mutants would reign like gods.
Furthermore, he planned to recruit the imprisoned mutants in the base. If he used clones to do his bidding, those victims would undoubtedly see him as no different from Stryker.
"Surprised to see me again?" Allen winked smugly. "Old Stryke, I liked you the first time we met. That's why I let you live a few more chapters."
Stryker looked like he wanted to speak, but hesitated, as though he already sensed how it would end.
"Speechless? Touched, are you?" Allen grinned. "Truth is, I didn't kill you at the start because the previous boss was Charles. You know how the X-Men are—hypocrites playing both sides. They have this sanctimonious 'no killing' policy. It's a real sickness, always making everything needlessly complicated."
"Being a hero means solving 10% of the problem and creating the other 90%, just so you look indispensable," Wade agreed enthusiastically.
"We really are on the same wavelength," Allen said.
He winked with his right eye and made a 'C' shape with his hand.
Wade caught on and mirrored the gesture. Their hands came together, forming a heart.
For a moment, the two men locked eyes.
That heart hovered awkwardly in front of the trapped Colonel Stryker.
The atmosphere immediately turned bizarre and painfully awkward.
Allen sheepishly explained, "Sorry, it's just that we had a spontaneous moment of mutual appreciation between fellow masters."
Wade clutched his cheeks in mock horror. "Sh*t, why did my heart skip a beat just now?"
An unbearable sight for anyone.
Luckily, everyone else had grown used to it.
But this was Stryker's first taste of psychological torment. He couldn't help asking, "What are you going to do to me?"
"We're sending you off," Allen replied coolly.
Back to the matter at hand—this time, there would be no escape for Stryker.
His life would serve as the price to appease the rage of the innocent mutants—and as a token of allegiance for those pledging themselves to Apocalypse.
A force field enveloped him, transporting the group to the mutant detention chamber.
Inside, dozens of young men and women were locked in cages. Metal collars suppressed their mutant powers, and many bore signs of abuse.
The moment they saw Stryker, rage filled every single pair of eyes.
There were over a hundred imprisoned mutants here, all secretly captured from society.
Given the current public sentiment against mutants, their sudden disappearances had drawn little to no concern.
Apocalypse raised his hand, summoning sand that unlocked the cell doors.
The same sand, like a breeze, slipped into the suppression devices and deactivated them, freeing the mutants.
Even so, the scars of inhuman torment had left the mutants wary and distrustful. They were not ready to believe anyone just yet.
"And now, let's hear from our big boss. Round of applause!" Allen called out.
Clap clap clap...
Allen and Wade clapped enthusiastically, hyping the moment.
It felt wildly out of place, but somehow, it still suited them perfectly.
"Do not be afraid. You are safe now," Apocalypse said calmly, then introduced himself: "I am En Sabah Nur, ruler of Egypt's first dynasty over three thousand years ago. You may call me Apocalypse."
"I have a vision—to rebuild a world led by mutants, where no one must live in fear, and where our kind can exist in the open, no longer persecuted or discriminated against…"
At those words, the mutants' eyes lit up.
They had spent their lives hiding—avoiding contact with others, distrusting even family. All they wanted was a normal life.
"This will not be easy. Humanity will see our rise as a threat to their authority. That is why I need your support."
"Boss is killing it!" Wade shouted.
Allen grabbed him and whispered, "Wait till he hits the climax. We're the hype crew, not the spotlight."
"I'm building the mood—pacing it out for a powerful crescendo," Wade muttered back.
Noticing Apocalypse's disapproving glance, the two wisely shut up.
"This is a monumental cause. All who join will be remembered throughout history. Your names will be sung by future generations."
As he spoke with increasing fervor, Apocalypse raised his fist.
"Mutants are not freaks. Mutants are not monsters. Mutants are evolution. Mutants are the future."
His words struck a deep chord.
"Mutants are not freaks! Mutants are not monsters! Mutants are evolution! Mutants are the future!"
The mutants, fists raised, shouted in unison.
"…He's really selling it," Allen muttered.
"You wrote the damn speech," Wade said with a snort.
Arms crossed, Allen looked wistful. "To be honest, I've always dreamed of being a writer."
"Really? You've got that sensitive, artsy vibe," Wade teased.
"You misunderstood. I meant a 'sitting-at-home' kind of writer."
"…"
Apocalypse lowered his hands, and the room fell silent.
Everyone awaited his next move.
Bang!
Stryker was thrown forward.
Apocalypse summoned a dagger and laid it before them.
"This man persecuted your kind. If you wish to follow me, prove your resolve—stab him."
This was their initiation rite.
Share the burden. Share the glory. No one gets a free ride.
Though many had survived by staying low, the chance for revenge made them hesitate.
Most had never even killed a chicken—let alone a man.
But crowds breed courage. All it took was one.
A one-armed young man picked up the knife and strode toward Stryker.
"I'm a military colonel. Don't be foolish—you've got your whole life ahead of you, don't do something you'll reg—aaagh!"
The next second, Stryker screamed in agony, clutching his side.
"AAAAAAH—"
His wails echoed throughout the chamber.
Lingering. Haunting.
And unrelenting.