Stryker watched the battlefield through the drone feed, jaw tight.
Footage confirmed the suppressor collar was active, yet it had no effect on the target whatsoever.
That alone was enough to give Stryker a dull, creeping headache. The collar shut down the X-gene at its source. Even Omega-level mutants went inert the moment it locked. Powers died. Resistance ended.
This one didn't.
"He's not a mutant "Stryker muttered.
From what he'd seen, Luke wasn't a pacifist like Xavier, preaching restraint and coexistence. Nor was he a zealot like Magneto, wrapped in ideology and hatred. That made him worse.
Unpredictable.
Uncontainable.
If someone like that was allowed to exist publicly—openly—then the image they'd spent years building would crack. Mutants wouldn't be seen as monsters anymore. They'd be seen as victims. Or worse—justified.
Stryker couldn't allow that.
"Bomb the area," he said flatly.
The operations room went still.
The weapons operator hesitated, fingers hovering over the launch controls. "Sir… those are city streets. Civilian density is high. Media drones are still live."
Stryker didn't look away from the screen. "One target," he replied. "Acceptable losses."
Another beat passed.
"…Yes, sir."
High above the city, strike aircraft adjusted formation. Bay doors slid open with a mechanical whine.
Missiles dropped free—heavy payloads, not precision strikes. Bunker-busters and thermobaric warheads designed to erase blocks, collapse buildings, and turn streets into craters.
Engines ignited.
FWOOOOM—
The missiles screamed downward, tearing through the sky in burning lines.
On Stryker's monitor, targeting brackets tightened around Luke's position.
"End it," Stryker said quietly.
***
On Luke's side,
"Uh… h-hello," Lucy said, forcing a trembling smile at the camera. "I'm Lucy."
Her phone buzzed nonstop in her hand. View count climbing. 50,000… 80,000… 100,000.
Her breath caught when she noticed it. She'd never crossed ten thousand before.
Part of her was terrified—there was a man standing in front of her who had just erased soldiers and machines like they were chalk drawings.
Another part of her was very aware that this was the biggest live stream of her life.
Luke glanced at the phone, then back at her. "I'm Luke," he said evenly. "You don't need to be stiff."
He looked around once—at the melted street, the warped metal, the empty space where an army had been seconds ago—then back to her. His tone stayed calm.
"I'm actually pretty peaceful," he added. "I only get violent when someone insists on provoking me.
Behind her, the chat was exploding.
— HE TALKED TO HER
— IS HE GOING TO KILL HER?
— WHY IS HE SO CALM?
She laughed weakly, mostly to keep herself from screaming. "R-right. Peaceful. Sure."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "You're shaking."
"Because," Lucy said honestly, "most people who say they're peaceful don't stand in the middle of molten asphalt."
"That's fair," Luke admitted.
Then he added, almost casually, "But compared to your own military trying to bomb and kill you guys, I'm still the better option."
"Huh?" Lucy blinked, confused by the way he said it—too calm, too matter-of-fact.
Luke lifted a finger and pointed upward.
Lucy followed the motion.
Her phone tilted with her head.
For half a second, she didn't understand what she was seeing—just dark shapes cutting through the clouds, growing larger far too fast.
Then the contrails registered.
Long. White. Multiple.
Her face drained of color. "A-are those… missiles?"
The livestream chat detonated.
— WAIT WHAT?
— THOSE ARE MISSILES
— IS THE MILITARY FIRING MISSILES IN THE MIDDLE OF A CITY??
— WHO'S THE BAD GUY HERE??
— THAT'S OUR OWN MILITARY. WTF?
"Yes," Luke said calmly. "Your country's missiles. Paid for by taxpayers. And now they're being used right here—on their own civilians."
Lucy's breath hitched. "Why?" she asked, fear cutting through her voice.
Luke let out a short, humorless breath. "You know the logic. To neutralize a major threat—that would be me—some losses are considered acceptable."
He glanced at the sky again, then back at her. "Don't worry," he added, the words tasting bitter even to him. "If you die here, they'll call you a hero. Maybe give you a flag. A line in a report."
Lucy's grip tightened on her phone. Her face twisted from fear into pure, furious disbelief.
"Hero?" she spat. "Fuck that. I don't want a flag. I want to live."
The livestream exploded.
— FUCK THE MILITARY
— ARE YOU KIDDING ME
— THEY'RE BOMBING CIVILIANS
— THIS IS WAR ON THEIR OWN PEOPLE
— FUCK THE GOVERNMENT
The comments were flying so fast they blurred into a wall of rage.
Lucy's voice cracked as she shouted at her phone, tears streaking down her face.
"Do you see this?! They're firing missiles at a CITY! At US! Fuck your 'public safety'!"
Luke didn't look at her. His eyes were on the incoming streaks of fire.
"Why—why aren't you worried?"
Luke shrugged, almost casual. "Missiles don't work on me. In the past, an idiot tried a nuclear bomb." He tilted his head. "Didn't work either."
Her smile collapsed. She sank to her knees. "Fuck… I'm going to die." she whispered as the missiles closed in.
Luke gently took her phone, turning the camera outward. The livestream count was climbing like crazy.
"Well," he said to the screen, calm as ever, "what do you think happens next?"
The chat flooded in.
— YOU DIE
— THIS IS THE END
— RIP
Luke smiled faintly. "Interesting."
He glanced up. "Quick poll. How many of you like dragons?"
Confusion spammed the chat.
The sky burned red.
A massive shape tore into existence above the street—wings unfolding, scales glowing like molten iron. A dragon roared, the sound rattling windows for blocks.
Missiles closed in.
The dragon opened its jaws.
CHOMP.
One. Two. Three.
It swallowed the missiles like candy, chewed once, then let out a satisfied burp, a puff of smoke drifting from its nostrils.
Silence.
Luke zoomed the camera in so everyone could see the empty sky where destruction was supposed to be.
"…And that," he said mildly, handing the phone back to Lucy, "is why I wasn't worried."
The chat lost its mind.
— WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK
— DID WE JUST SEE THAT
— DRAGON???
— HOLY SHIT
"I… didn't die?" Lucy muttered, her voice small and disbelieving.
She slowly looked up at the sky again. And there—circling lazily above—was a huge red shape, wings blotting out the sun for a moment.
Her mouth fell open.
"…Wow," she whispered, awe completely overriding fear. "There are dragons in heaven."
*****
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