After closing the information panel, Richard used Flash and returned to the second underground floor. The Operations Department agents wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, but he had no intention of standing around waiting for them to regroup. If they wanted round two, they could come find him. He still had work to do.
The moment he reappeared, the first thing he saw was Sabretooth locked in a brutal grapple with his own clone. The two of them looked less like trained combatants and more like feral animals tearing at each other in a forest clearing. Claws raked across flesh, teeth snapped inches from throats, and heavy bodies slammed into walls hard enough to crack concrete.
You slash me, I slash you.You gouge my eye, I rip your throat.
Neither of them bothered with refined technique. There were no clean combinations or elegant counters—just savage instinct and raw violence. Compared to the clone, Sabretooth clearly had more real combat experience and sharper tactical instincts. He knew how to bait, how to feint, how to exploit a mistake.
Unfortunately, none of that was enough to end the fight quickly.
The clone matched him in strength and durability, and worst of all, in regeneration. Wounds that would have dropped a normal fighter barely slowed either of them. Flesh knitted. Blood stopped flowing. Torn muscle reformed. It was like watching two monsters trying to outlast each other in a contest neither was designed to lose.
Sabretooth had finally learned firsthand how irritating it was to fight someone with extreme self-healing.
"Need a hand?" Richard asked calmly after observing for a few seconds.
The clone standing in front of Sabretooth looked almost untouched despite the shredded, blood-soaked remains of his clothing. The body beneath it, however, had already healed over multiple deep lacerations.
"No," Sabretooth snapped back without hesitation. "I can handle it myself."
Richard shrugged. He wasn't invested in the outcome beyond practicality.
"Then take your time," he said. "I'll check out the third level."
Without waiting for a reply, he activated Flash and vanished.
When he reappeared, he was standing on the third underground floor.
Sabretooth's informant hadn't given much detail about this level. The only thing he'd said was that something very scary was down here. But Richard already had a strong suspicion about what that meant.
Sentinel robots.
If those machines were housed here, then this level was likely the hangar, maintenance bay, and monitoring hub for the Sentinels. Given the scale of the facility above, that made perfect sense.
His guess was correct.
The instant he arrived, he found himself inside a massive maintenance area. Heavy mechanical tools lined the walls. Disassembled components lay stacked in organized rows. Replacement parts—servo motors, armored plating, sensor modules—were sorted neatly across metal racks.
And in the center of this industrial space, separated from the machines but close enough to serve a purpose, were several metal cages.
Inside those cages were children.
More specifically, mutant children.
They were locked up like lab animals, each confined inside reinforced steel enclosures no different from oversized experimental cages. The contrast between the cold mechanical environment and the small, trembling figures inside those cages made the entire scene feel worse.
Richard's expression hardened.
He already disliked the Mutant Affairs Department. Now that feeling sharpened into something colder. Mutants were different, yes. They had abilities ordinary humans didn't. But they were still human beings.
Judging by the hollow looks in the children's eyes and the way their bodies instinctively flinched at every sound, they had not been treated as human.
If he had to guess, they'd been transferred down here from the laboratory on the second underground level. The reason they weren't sent to mutant prison was obvious enough.
These children likely possessed desirable abilities.
They weren't prisoners.
They were samples.
Sentinel robots were built to counter mutants. The most efficient way to do that was to copy mutant powers. These children were probably being used as templates for that process.
Richard stepped forward without hesitation.
He walked up to the nearest cage and raised the blade in his hand. The weapon flashed through the air with precise, efficient movements.
Metal screeched.
The lock fell apart instantly.
He moved to the next cage. Then the next. One by one, the locks were severed.
"Come out," Richard said evenly. "You're safe."
The doors were open. All they had to do was push them.
None of the children moved.
Instead, they shrank backward, retreating to the furthest corner of their cages. Small bodies curled inward defensively. Eyes wide. Shoulders trembling.
They weren't refusing him.
They were afraid to leave.
Richard paused.
Whatever they had gone through had conditioned them to treat the cage as the only predictable space in their world. Leaving it meant the unknown. And the unknown had probably always led to pain.
His dislike for the Mutant Affairs Department deepened.
He didn't consider himself a hero. He had killed, and he would kill again if necessary. But he had lines he would not cross. Experimenting on children wasn't one of them. Neither was hunting indiscriminately just to collect more abilities.
Looking at the frightened faces in front of him, he reached into his system space and pulled out a disposable prepaid phone.
Before tonight's operation, he and Clarice had picked up several of them while buying groceries. No contracts, no registration, no traceability. Cheap and common across the United States. Popular for obvious reasons.
He dialed her number.
The call connected quickly.
"I'm on the third underground level," he said. "There are several mutant kids here. They're traumatized. Open a portal and take them out."
"Okay," Clarice replied immediately.
A few seconds later, an irregular oval-shaped portal shimmered into existence beside him. The surface rippled like liquid glass. Then Clarice stepped through.
She glanced at the cages and immediately understood the situation.
"They're scared of me too," Richard said quietly. "They won't come out."
"Leave it to me," she replied.
Clarice approached the nearest cage slowly, deliberately lowering her posture to seem less imposing. Her voice softened.
"It's okay," she said gently. "We're not going to hurt you. We're taking you away from here."
She extended her hand.
The child inside hesitated, eyes flicking between her face and the open door. Two seconds passed. Then three.
Finally, the child reached out and grabbed her hand.
Once the first one stepped out, the rest followed more easily. Clarice moved from cage to cage, speaking softly, guiding them out without rushing. Within minutes, all of them were standing outside their enclosures.
Under Richard's watchful gaze, Clarice guided the children through the portal one by one. The space gate led back to the rooftop of the building they had used earlier.
When the last child disappeared through the portal, Clarice stepped back inside and the shimmering oval collapsed in on itself, vanishing without a trace.
Silence returned to the maintenance area.
Richard lowered his blade and walked deeper into the third underground level.
Aside from the children, he encountered no one.
As he moved through the corridors, he noticed something else. Many of the rooms had been deliberately damaged. Hard drives smashed. Terminals destroyed. Equipment disassembled and partially dismantled.
This wasn't random destruction.
It was evacuation protocol.
They had left in a hurry—but not in chaos.
Inside the monitoring room, he found the confirmation. One of the surveillance systems was still active, showing recorded footage from earlier. Staff members—clearly non-mutants—were visible evacuating systematically. They destroyed sensitive equipment they couldn't carry and exited in coordinated groups.
They ran decisively.
From their movements, it was obvious they had prepared for this possibility long ago. There were predefined routes, assigned responsibilities, and clear command structure. No panic. No shouting. Just orderly withdrawal.
They had evacuation plans in place from the beginning, and they executed them calmly and efficiently.
.....
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