Mad Battle

"Why, you—" the Beast asked, dumbfounded.

The Clown-Sup took a bite of pizza, pointing at his fingers as he said, "I don't know, anyway, no one's coming to play with me, so I'm just grabbing a bite to fill my stomach. It's no problem, is it? Your airplane food is just awful."

"But you—"

The Clown-Sup -factly, "I wasn't wearing a X- X-Men uniform, and neither was the Brotherhood. Anyway, when you guys started fighting, I just crouched down and dodged bullets like an ordinary civilian, and those soldiers treated me like a dead civilian."

"What do you think I do in Hollywood? You probably don't know how well I know this stuff. Soldiers judge people by their threat level, not by their strange clothes."

"Besides, I'm not the only one staying to watch the show. Look around, there are so many people." The Beast looked in the direction the Clown-Sup was pointing, and sure enough, there were quite a few unrelated people hiding to watch the excitement.

"I told you, New York have long since developed a thick skin from all this fuss. If it were twenty years later, there would be even more people filming with their phones for views, believe it or not."

If it were the human form of the Beast, that is, Hank McCoy, then Clown-Sup's scolding might have made Hank question his existence, or at the very least, put him in an awkward and embarrassing situation.

The Beast form's personality isn't entirely unchanged, but it differs slightly from the human form, being much more decisive and direct.

At least he didn't intend to follow the Clown-Sup's twisted logic; instead, he said, "Hope you're full," and then grabbed the man with the slicked-back green hair with his large hand and slammed him toward the United States soldier!

Like a rolling log, he swept two advancing soldiers down in one go. Clown-Sup looked at the men he had pinned beneath him and said, "What If...? I said I didn't do it on purpose, would you let me go?"

The soldiers' logic for judging friend or foe was quite simple. Even though it wasn't intentional, Clown-Sup still knocked down two of them, and didn't even plan to get up immediately!

So a soldier pointed a gun at Clown-Sup and yelled, "Don't move! Get out of there!"

"Hmm, have you noticed that the two orders contradict each other? Which one should I follow?"

The United States soldier, already on edge due to the presence of the Brotherhood of Mutants, couldn't relax from Clown-Sup's antics. He screamed hysterically, his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at any moment.

But his mistake was getting too close to the Clown-Sup; the gun was practically pressed against his forehead, but he wasn't aiming properly. Instead, he frantically swayed left and right.

There's no need to demonstrate any Super Speed; in the blink of an eye, Clown-Sup dodged the gun barrel, then grabbed the barrel and deftly snatched the rifle away.

Clown-Sup, gripping the gun barrel upside down, delivered a powerful, club-like blow to the soldier whose rifle had been taken from him, much to the soldiers' astonishment.

Looking at such a record, he gently stroked the rifle he was holding upside down and said softly, "Ah, you see, I'm very clever, aren't I? I know that the weight of a rifle is in the rear half, while the barrel is relatively light. So hitting someone with the butt of the rifle hurts more."

"What If...? it were reversed, the result would be different. If it hit someone, it might just cause no pain or itch. Oh, baby, since you find it so easy to use, I'll give you a name."

Clown-Sup examined the rifle in his hand for a moment, the battlefield fell silent, entering a strange atmosphere.

"Aha, I'll name you Destroy!" Satisfied, Clown-Sup once again charged forward with his rifle upside down, smashing down one United States soldier after another. The battle instantly erupted.

In this kind of extremely close-quarters combat, especially with the Clown-Sup infiltrated into the enemy ranks, rifles are completely ineffective. Anyone who dares to fire must be prepared to shoot their own people.

For Clown-Sup, all he needs to do is skillfully maneuver to make the soldiers wary and hesitant to fire.

Then it was turned upside down and Destroy, crushing the soldiers.

Unfortunately, modern rifles aren't meant for that kind of thing; after hitting only a few people, the entire gun fell apart!

Even the barrel of the gun in his hand was bent at a strange angle.

When Clown-Sup threw down his shattered rifle, three or five soldiers lay unconscious on the ground. Several others were shaking their heads, trying to clear their dazed minds.

He picked up another rifle, holding it upside down as Clown-Sup. With the same gentle gaze and tone, he lightly stroked the rifle and said, "My darling, I name you Destroy II. I hope you can stay with me longer than Destruction I ever was. Come on, soldiers!"

Street fighting, with countless vehicles serving as cover, Clown-Sup doesn't need to demonstrate any speed or strength.

With what others considered unparalleled luck, he could weave through a hail of bullets and swiftly crush the soldiers.

In fact, every move he made was the result of meticulous calculation. But with the assistance of Super Brain,

It acted as if it were intuition, or as if it were blessed by Lady Luck.

But more chilling than a bizarrely dressed Joker constantly smashing soldiers with a rifle was the insane, never-ending laughter.

The soldiers had never experienced a battle like this before. It seemed that if everyone just put in a little more effort, they could defeat this mad Joker, but they were always just a little short.

Although no one suffered fatal injuries, at most they were only unconscious, the laughter seemed to mock them, sending chills down everyone's spine.

All of this changed after a squad of better-equipped assault infantry, specifically trained to fight Mutants, joined the fray.

They are equipped with stun guns, so they are not afraid of accidental injury. Even if they hit their own people, their equipment can prevent them from being electrocuted and paralyzed by their own people.

A group of soldiers surrounded the Clown-Sup. The other, less well-equipped soldiers dragged their fallen comrades away.

The Destroy Rifle in his hands was probably the fifth or sixth incarnation; Clown-Sup held it by his sides like a baseball bat.

He had been scanning the United States soldiers surrounding him with wary eyes, Clown-Sup suddenly lowered his gun.

He used it as a walking stick, his eyes widened, a lewd smile appeared on his face, and he started telling a classic American joke, "Knock, knock."

Unfortunately, the soldiers weren't having any of it, and they all fired at once! More than a dozen electric shock stun grenades all hit Clown-Sup. And he cooperated by pretending to be electrocuted and paralyzed, his whole body stiffening, and he collapsed to the ground convulsing.

The reason he cooperated so readily was because his Super Senses had already detected that all the X-Men and Brotherhood Mutants had been taken down. The soldiers were primarily focused on capturing them, not directly killing Mutants.

As the soldiers, using tools similar to those used for catching dogs, placed the collar controlling Mutants around the Clown-Sup's neck, the man feigning death eagerly awaited what would happen next. He was so excited he almost gave himself away, whistling as he whistled.