Colonel Stryker

"Mr. President, I have to say, you were very lucky. It was that close." An elderly man with glasses stared at a small hole in the desk. A few hours earlier, a mutant had pinned the U.S. President against that very desk. If it had been even slightly closer, the knife would not have been stuck in the desk—it would have been buried in the President's forehead.

"I wonder whether you'll be so lucky next time." The man turned his gaze toward Obama.

"You didn't come here just to mock me, did you, William Stryker?" Obama met the man's eyes.

"Of course not. Who in this world would dare mock the U.S. President?" the man said calmly.

"Then stop beating around the bush. What do you want?" Obama knew that the man before him held considerable influence in the Military. And he certainly had not come here without a reason.

"I came to request your approval for a special operation."

The moment he heard that, Obama became wary. You want me to authorize a special operation? Haven't you Military types already done enough things behind my back, acting first and reporting afterward?

The fact that he had specifically come to see him this time meant the matter was huge—huge enough that even the Military did not dare bear the consequences lightly. So if something went wrong, they wanted to drag him down with them. There was no way Obama would so easily let himself become their scapegoat.

"Oh, I see. I thought you had come to discuss school reform plans with me." Obama poured himself a drink to steady his nerves and smiled.

"Mr. President, you're quite humorous."

As the two spoke, a man in a suit entered through the door.

"Mr. President, I'm here," the man said.

"Senator Kelly, welcome." After shaking hands with him, Obama began the introductions.

"This is Colonel William Stryker, a senior Military scientist with extensive research into mutants. And this is..."

"I know. The renowned Senator Kelly. I hear that ever since the President took office, you've been in charge of the mutant affairs department." Stryker took the initiative and held out his hand.

"I heard you were once a staunch supporter of the Mutant Registration Act. Proposing that bill won you a great many votes, but it seems your attitude toward mutants has changed considerably. Is that really a good thing?"

Though the words were clearly barbed, Senator Kelly showed no sign of anger. After all, he was not Senator Kelly at all. The real senator—the one who had loudly demanded that all mutants be thrown into prison—had long since been killed by Old Magneto in one of his experiments. The current Senator Kelly was merely Mystique in disguise.

"It's simply for the greater good," the fake Senator Kelly said with a smile.

"I think it's encouraging greater danger." As Stryker spoke, he placed a file from beneath his arm onto the table and spread it open.

"We have gathered evidence indicating that there is a training institution in the northern suburbs of New York City specifically dedicated to training mutants."

"Is the information reliable?" Obama asked.

"The intelligence came from a prisoner detained after the Liberty Island incident."

"You mean Erik Lehnsherr. You met him." Mystique, disguised as Senator Kelly, spoke without thinking.

"That's right—our infamous Magneto. Speaking of which, I contributed quite a bit to the construction of that plastic prison of his, so naturally I pay him regular visits to ask about his post-sale feedback."

"Oh, I see." Mystique nodded, but inwardly cried out in alarm. Old Magneto's place of seclusion seemed to be in serious danger this time. He had run into a real monster. They needed to get him out as soon as possible.

As Mystique considered how to rescue Old Magneto, she casually glanced at the photograph in the President's hand. Her pupils abruptly contracted. Fuck, wasn't this Professor X's Mutant Academy?

With that thought, the way Mystique looked at Stryker changed. Dogs that bark loudly do not bite; dogs that bite do not bark. Compared to Senator Kelly, who only knew how to shout about throwing mutants into prison, this man was far more ruthless—and knew far more. From the look of things, he was clearly planning to raid Professor X's base and crush the mutants completely.

"Mr. President, please consider this carefully. This so-called training institution Colonel Stryker mentioned looks like a school," Mystique reminded Obama. Though the Brotherhood and the X-Men sometimes fought viciously among themselves, they were mutants after all. At their core, they stood on the same side.

"Oh, I don't think it's just a school." Stryker tossed out another photograph. It was rather blurry, showing only the vague outline of something that looked like an aircraft.

"What the hell is that? A jet?" Obama asked, looking at the photograph in confusion.

"Who knows? But one thing is certain—it can take off from a basketball court."

"This is..." Obama scratched his head and unconsciously rose to his feet.

"Mr. President, I think it's time we did something," Stryker added at just the right moment.

Obama did not answer immediately. Instead, he let out a long breath. He finally understood why Stryker had come. Just imagine it: "U.S. soldiers attack a New York school." If that news got out, the uproar would probably be no less explosive than the Abomination incident. After all, it would touch certain lines the public would not tolerate.

The Military's prestige had already taken a severe hit in the Abomination incident. If something like this happened again, even a five-star general would not be able to withstand it.

And Stryker's purpose in coming was exactly as Obama had guessed. He had clearly come to make Obama take the fall.

But it was a burden Obama had no choice but to bear. Right in New York City, under his very nose, there was openly a mutant training organization—one that might even possess large-scale offensive weapons—and he had known absolutely nothing about it.

Damn it, were the Department of Defense, the FBI, the CIA, and whatever that S.H.I.E.L.D. was all pigs? They could not even uncover something like this? They might as well all go eat shit. What a waste of taxpayers' hard-earned money.

Of course, there was another possibility: some of them knew this organization existed, but had tacitly allowed it to continue. At that thought, Obama could not help clenching his fists.

In peacetime, the U.S. President's authority was not as great as people imagined. Not every U.S. President held absolute power like Roosevelt. Right now, Obama himself felt as though he had been sidelined. Especially after having just survived an attempted assassination by a mutant, he felt even more stifled. If I, Obama, don't show some force, are you all going to stop treating me like the U.S. President?

"All right, William, listen to me." Obama turned to face Colonel Stryker. His gaze had now become resolute.

"You have the authority to search, detain, and interrogate. But you'd better make sure I don't see the bodies of massacred mutant children on tomorrow morning's news."

Faced with Obama's clearly symbolic threat and warning, Colonel Stryker smiled faintly. "As you wish, Mr. President."