The Forced Activation of the Phoenix Mark, Cyclops's Desperate Death Ray
That cold, utterly disgusted and contemptuous telepathic message was like a poisoned ice pick, piercing Scott Summers Summers's Sea of Consciousness, which had already been churned into a muddy mess by the sound waves.
waste.
They couldn't even get rid of a few bugs.
You, do you even deserve to be a part of the master's collection?
Scott Summers shuddered violently, a chill deeper and more piercing than a Night Sky Sword piercing his limbs or an "Aria" vibrator tearing his brain apart.
No...
It wasn't her...
That's not the sound of a piano...
His soul screamed silently, desperately denying. The Qin he remembered, the gentle, kind Qin who held onto hope even in the face of the world's malice, would never utter such cruel words.
However, reality cruelly shattered his last illusions.
In the shadows of the street corner, Jean Grey's face remained expressionless. She didn't even bother to glance at Crossbones and his two teammates who were preparing for a final stand.
In her world, these mortals were nothing but dirty dust, and their lives and deaths were not even worth her attention.
Efficiency is what she cares about.
That's the result.
The question is whether we can present the master who sits on the Throne with an impeccable and perfect answer.
The scene before us is undoubtedly a disastrous failure.
She couldn't tolerate it.
Want to personally deal with a few of the lucky surviving mice?
No.
That would make her seem too incompetent, unable to even handle a few mere "tools".
Her gaze, precise and cold like Scalpel, fell upon the man pinned to the asphalt by Hela's Night Sky Sword.
Scott Summers Summers.
A perfect tool for "recycling".
Jean Grey closed her eyes.
The next second, deep within her soul, the Dark Gold Throne Mark —a symbol of absolute dominance and submission—that Lynn had personally branded, suddenly burst forth with dazzling light!
This was not due to her own power.
This is... the master's authority!
She didn't try to control Scott Summers directly through Telepathy, that was Charles's "gentle" approach. What she wanted to do was more direct, more brutal, and more humiliating—drive!
It's like a programmer, using the Highest Access Privileges backend, forcibly issuing a final, and most reckless, self-destruct command to a machine on the verge of collapse!
"Buzz--!"
An irresistible and extremely domineering will, following the Dark Gold Mind Link, savagely rushed into Scott Summers's body!
"No... no--!"
Scott Summers's eyes, which had been tightly closed in pain, suddenly snapped open, his eyeballs bloodshot, his pupils contracted to the size of pinpoints in extreme terror.
He sensed it.
He felt that his body no longer belonged to him.
A cold, unfamiliar force took over every nerve ending and controlled every muscle fiber in his body. He wanted to roar, but only a wail, like a leaky bellows, could be heard from his throat. He wanted to struggle, but the four Night Sky Sword piercing through his limbs nailed him firmly to the cross of shame, rendering him unable to move.
His eyelids were cruelly and slowly pried open by that invisible force.
Without the obscuring effect of the Ruby-Quartz Visor, those eyes, which contained a Dimension destructive power, were laid bare to the air.
Crossbones and the two remaining STRIKE members had just pointed their guns at the fallen Wolverine.
An indescribable, primal sense of crisis sent chills down their spines!
"What is that?!" one of the team members exclaimed in surprise.
They saw that the X-Men leader, pinned to the ground, the man who should have been helpless against the sonic weapon, was staring straight at them.
His eyes were unfocused, devoid of emotion, only a... pure, unfathomable, frantically accumulating energy... Scarlet!
"Fire! Fire now! Kill him!"
Crossbones ' roar exploded in the communication channel, but it was too late.
Scott Summers's eyes were forced to their limits by the power emanating from the Phoenix Mark.
No power was charged up.
There was no warning.
A crimson Destruction Beam, a thousand times more intense and violent than the midday sun, shot out like a cataclysmic punishment breaking free from a thousand-year-old prison!
That's not a laser.
It was a ray of despair, composed purely of kinetic energy, powerful enough to tear reality apart!
"Zzzzz!!!"
The world, at this moment, lost all sound and color.
Crossbones ' vision was swallowed by an endless Scarlet.
The first to be hit was the "Aria" high-frequency acoustic oscillator, which was suspended in mid-air and still buzzing.
It didn't even have time to let out a mournful cry. In the 0.01 seconds it came into contact with that Destruction Beam, it was instantly vaporized along with the surrounding air and completely wiped out from the material level!
Next came the two STRIKE members who had just raised their rifles.
A violent torrent of energy swept through.
Their "Phantom" combat suits, their specially made rifles, their flesh and blood, their bones... everything was as fragile as bubbles in the sunlight before that beam of light.
Not even a speck of dust remained.
They vanished as if they had never existed in this world, completely and utterly evaporated.
"Boom--!!!"
The Destruction Beam continued its relentless march, ruthlessly plundering the entire street.
The hard asphalt road surface was instantly melted and blown away, leaving a terrifying ravine tens of meters long and several meters deep with smooth, mirror-like edges. The exterior walls of the buildings on both sides of the ravine collapsed and peeled away silently, like cheese cut by a hot butter knife, revealing the twisted and charred steel structure inside.
The red light, a symbol of despair and destruction, slowly dissipated only after it crashed through an office building at the end of the block, leaving a huge hole that was completely open from front to back.
The world returned to silence.
The air was filled with Ozone, molten metal, and a strange, sweet, fishy smell from the decomposition of substances at high temperatures.
"Cough... cough cough..."
Crossbones, who was thrown more than ten meters away by the Impact and slammed hard against the wall, coughed up a mouthful of blood mixed with fragments of internal organs.
He felt like his body had fallen apart; every part of his body ached, and his left arm was twisted at an odd angle.
But he couldn't care less about any of that.
He struggled to lift his head, looking through his blood-blurred vision at the ravaged battlefield.
What did he see?
He saw the man who had fired the world-destroying beam, Scott Summers Summers, lose his energy, his head loll to the side, and he passed out completely, like a broken, dead dog, still pinned to the spot.
He saw Wolverine, Storm, and a group of Mutants slowly getting up from the ground after their sonic weapon was destroyed. The pain in their eyes had faded, replaced by a deeper and more chilling numbness.
He saw the Red-haired Woman, Jean Grey, slowly lower her arms from her chest, a satisfied, sickly smile on her face.
It was as if we were admiring a perfectly crafted work of art that had just been set up.
Crossbones ' heart sank Abyss an abyss.
He understood.
I understand completely now.
This is not defection, not betrayal.
This is... enslavement!
The X-Men, these Mutants once seen as heroes and hope, have been utterly reduced to lackeys of the master of Baxter Building! They are killing tools that can be sacrificed and manipulated at any time!
This intelligence...
This terrifying intelligence, capable of upending the world order, must be disseminated!
Nick Fury needs to know!
The whole world needs to know just what kind of monster they are facing!
The instinct for survival has been completely crushed, replaced by the last obsession of being a top agent and a core member of Hydra.
With his last remaining right hand, Crossbones trembled and mustered his last bit of strength to reach for the tactical pouch on his chest, which was already soaked in blood.
There is an emergency Communicator there.
One-way, encrypted, direct S.H.I.E.L.D. the highest command center of Triskelion... the last hope.
He touched the cold metal casing and, with all his might, pressed the call button hidden in the recess.
"Drop..."
A faint, soft sound rang in his ears.
It's done!