It was a moonless, windless night.
A secluded FBI training facility outside New York.
"Men! At ease."
Major William Stryker looked at the six newly assembled mutant special forces members before him. They varied greatly in build and skin color, and none could be called well trained, but at least they knew how to follow orders.
More than a hundred and fifty mutant soldiers had been transferred from the American military under various pretexts. Most were very young, holding ranks as low as private or even recruit.
The youngest of the seven was Chris Bradley, a recruit in the communications company of the former 38th Corps of the American Army. He had just turned eighteen.
He barely met the minimum height requirement for the military physical. Standing beside Fred Dukes, who was over two meters tall and built like a tower, he looked like a child who had only just become old enough to go out and buy milk by himself.
Most of them looked no different from ordinary people. Mutants whose bodies had changed too drastically could never pass the physical examination for enlistment. They were often treated as freaks and forced to hide in the forgotten corners of society.
What disappointed Major Stryker most was how few mutants had any real talent for combat.
More than eighty percent of these mutant soldiers had abilities that were completely useless. Some simply had powerful stomachs that let them digest stones or even metal; others had vision or hearing several times better than an ordinary person, or could talk to birds.
The one who disgusted him most was a kid from New Jersey who could release poisonous breath or fart.
Never mind the mutants whose codenames were "Magneto" and "White Queen," who were listed in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secret records. Even a glimpse