Chapter 10: School Under Siege
The humming in Adam's core was a high-pitched whine, a frantic, red-alert alarm that was a stark contrast to the quiet, dignified silence of his penthouse. The screen in his mind, the system's interface, was a flashing cascade of information. Apocalypse had attacked the Xavier Mansion. He had kidnapped Charles Xavier. He had, in a single, brutal act of violence, destroyed the one place in the world that was supposed to be a sanctuary for mutants.
"This is it. The big one. The moment everything changes. The moment the heroes get their hearts broken and their home destroyed. It's a tragic, beautiful, and utterly predictable moment in the canon. And I'm just here for the aftermath. The vultures, I guess. The cleaner-uppers. The guys who get the job done when the heroes are too busy crying over their burnt-down school," Adam thought, a strange sense of excitement and dread filling his mind. He was not a hero. He was not a savior. He was a survivor, a pragmatist, and a man with a plan.
He had his lieutenants in a secure conference room, their faces a mix of horror and morbid fascination. They watched the news reports, the images of the burning, smoking rubble of the mansion a visceral, terrifying sight.
"They're all busy," Adam said, his voice a low, confident whisper. He could feel their fear, their sadness, their empathy for the students who were now homeless and lost. He let them feel it, let them process the horror. He didn't manipulate their emotions. He just gave them a chance to feel what they felt, to understand why he was doing what he was doing.
"The X-Men are distracted. They're fighting Apocalypse. They're trying to save their leader. They're not looking at the big picture. And that's where we come in."
He laid out his plan, a masterpiece of cold, ruthless opportunism. He would send out a few of his most reliable operatives, his "ghosts," to the site of the wreckage. They would not be there to fight or to help. They would be there to observe, to recover, and to recruit. They would look for abandoned mutant artifacts, for data, for anything that could be useful. They would look for the students who had been left behind, the ones who were too scared, too lost, or too weak to fight. They would offer them a choice.
The system, meanwhile, was providing him with a constant, low-level stream of data about the battle. He could sense the overwhelming power of Apocalypse, the raw, ancient energy of a god-like being. He could sense the desperate, heroic struggle of the X-Men, the raw courage of a team of teenagers fighting for their lives. And he could sense a few, faint, but powerful, mutant signatures of the students who were fleeing, their powers a terrified, uncoordinated mess.
He focused on one, a young girl with a faint, but powerful, signature of localized reality warping. Her power, he knew, was a dangerous, unpredictable thing. He sent a silent command to one of his operatives. "Find her. Don't engage. Just… observe. And if you can, offer her a choice."
He then focused on the wreckage itself. He could sense the latent energy of a few minor mutant artifacts, the lingering power of a few broken gadgets. He sent another command to another operative. "Find the wreckage. Secure it. And bring it to me."
"This is how you survive. This is how you win. Not with a big, flashy fight, but with a quiet, careful plan. Not with a heroic sacrifice, but with a cold, ruthless acquisition. The X-Men fight to save the world. I just fight to save myself. And with every single thing I take, with every person I recruit, I'm just getting a little bit closer to a world where I'm the one in charge," Adam thought, a grim, satisfied smile on his face.
The world was changing. The old order was falling apart. The heroes were fighting a war they couldn't win, and the villains were getting stronger. And in the middle of it all, a new player, a new force, was rising from the shadows. Finex. And Adam Stiels, the sarcastic, pragmatic, and utterly ruthless architect, was at the center of it all. He was ready for the next step.
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