"Damn mutants!"
Inside the Oval Office, a short, stocky man with a gloomy expression stared out the window, his voice dripping with hostility.
But then—
A strange smile crept onto his face.
"I was planning to send someone in… but it looks like that won't be necessary anymore."
-----
Meanwhile, the President's security team had already begun evacuation procedures.
Whether that monster outside could break in or not—
Whether the White House would fall—
Didn't matter.
The priority was clear:
Get the President out.
Buildings could be rebuilt.
History had proven that.
The White House itself had been burned to the ground once before.
But people?
They couldn't be replaced.
Surrounded by a tight ring of agents, the President entered an emergency elevator, descending rapidly into the underground bunker.
Beneath the White House—
Lay an entire subterranean complex.
Far larger than the structure above.
Buried dozens of meters underground.
Reinforced with steel and concrete.
Capable of withstanding nuclear strikes.
Stockpiled with supplies, weapons, and resources—
Enough to sustain the President and his staff for months.
"I suggest we leave immediately."
A cold voice suddenly cut through the tension.
The gloomy man stepped forward.
"Sir, that thing outside is a mutant," he said, his tone sharp.
"This bunker is designed to withstand heavy weaponry."
"But he is heavy weaponry."
"He could locate the entrance… and tear through meters of reinforced concrete with his bare hands."
"Staying here is the same as waiting to die."
He stopped in front of the President, pressing his point.
"Colonel Stryker… what do you suggest we do?"
The President's voice wavered slightly.
He wasn't a warrior.
He wasn't a soldier.
He was a politician—
A compromise candidate backed by powerful interests.
He had never faced anything like this.
Outside was a being who could tank missiles and ignore machine-gun fire.
Panic was inevitable.
Inside, William Stryker felt a surge of satisfaction.
This—
Was his moment.
"Sir," he said, voice firm,
"We take the underground train to the airport."
"Board Air Force One."
"Call in the military."
-----
Then, his tone shifted—subtly.
"And… I've already formed a mutant response unit."
"If possible, I'd like your authorization."
This was what he had been waiting for.
With that authority—
He could gain funding.
Power.
Control.
And finally—
He could begin his war.
"Authorization?" The President narrowed his eyes. "You want to declare war on mutants?"
Stryker leaned in, his voice low and intense.
"Sir… they've already declared war on you."
"First Magneto."
"And now this."
"They're attacking the President of the United States."
"We're already too late."
His fists clenched.
Hatred burned in his eyes.
Mutants had taken everything from him—
His family.
His child.
His wife.
And he would repay that loss—
With extinction.
While the leaders of the nation plotted beneath the earth—
Above ground—
Peter had arrived.
…
Standing before the White House, he looked at the massive figure charging through explosions and gunfire.
A living mountain of flesh and steel.
He clicked his tongue.
"I should really kick that blue-skinned troublemaker…"
Beside him, hidden in the shadows—
Mystique and Psylocke watched the chaos unfold.
A spectacle they had orchestrated themselves.
At Peter's complaint, Mystique rolled her eyes.
"You think finding people like this is easy?" she shot back.
"This is the White House."
"Who in their right mind would come here to die?"
"Or do you think every mutant has Magneto's courage—to declare war on the entire world?"
Peter sighed.
He hadn't asked her to launch a full assault.
He just wanted chaos.
Enough to scare the President into running.
For mutants, with their diverse abilities—
That should've been simple.
Instead—
She picked the most reckless method possible.
"Does he not realize attacking this place means going to war with the United States?" Peter muttered.
"He's going to be hunted by the entire military."
"Fine, fine—my fault," he admitted, shrugging.
"But you're right."
"Only someone with a broken brain would take this job."
He looked ahead—
At the roaring giant.
And smiled faintly.
Juggernaut.
Not some minor player.
Not even close.
Though not a mutant—
He was something far more terrifying.
The avatar of a dark god.
Cyttorak.
A being from the Crimson Cosmos.
A force rivaling—
Or even surpassing—
Dormammu himself.
And in terms of raw presence?
Juggernaut was eerily similar to another green giant.
Unstoppable strength.
Limitless power.
Near-immortality.
And—
Absolutely no brain to speak of.
A perfect battering ram.
And tonight—
He was smashing straight into the heart of America.
--------------
T/N:
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