Creating Oasis:Mutant Dawn

Wilhelm Stryker lay collapsed on the cold steel floor of his office.

He remained unconscious for nearly twenty minutes before groggily waking up, eyes fluttering open as a pounding headache echoed in his skull. Aside from the ache behind his temples, he felt physically unharmed—yet utterly disoriented.

There was something wrong.

Terribly wrong.

His mind was blank. The entire past hour—gone.

His last clear memory was seeing the X-Men's public statement online... and then, nothing.

"Did I… fall asleep in the middle of all this?"

He shook his head, forcing himself up, disoriented by the idea. As a man of strict discipline, the notion that he'd dozed off—especially now—felt absurd.

"This isn't right... I never sleep during critical operations."

The deeper he thought, the more the tension in his chest grew. What had he been doing before the blackout? He tried to focus, tried to replay the chain of events.

Then it hit him—

"Right! The X-Men issued that arrogant statement... they sounded confident—far too confident. I need to contact Adam Robert immediately—"

He reached for the desk to grab his communication device when—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Someone pounded frantically on the door.

Stryker's head snapped toward the noise. A sharp flash of annoyance crossed his face. He turned toward the one-way glass and froze.

Chaos.

The control room outside was in complete disorder. Alarms blared. People rushed in every direction. Red lights strobed across the walls.

A surge of dread clutched his chest.

He yanked the door open.

"What the hell is going on out there?!"

A subordinate nearly stumbled through the doorway, his face pale with panic.

"Colonel! The X-Men are here! They've broken into the base!"

"What?!" Stryker's eyes widened. "They were supposed to be chasing Nightcrawler—what do you mean they're here?!"

The young officer looked even more confused.

"Colonel… that happened over thirty minutes ago. The situation at the church was resolved. Deadpool and the rest of Weapon X were defeated—and it was all livestreamed to the entire world."

Stryker stared, mouth open.

"Thirty minutes ago?" he repeated, eyes darting to the digital clock mounted on the wall.

Time had moved on without him.

"That's impossible… that can't be right… I just—"

The subordinate glanced at him, clearly hesitant. "Sir, we assumed you were aware. You told us not to disturb you—that you had it under control."

"I said that?"

Even in his memory-lapsed state, Stryker knew something was off. He had never given such an order. His mind spun, flooded with confusion and disbelief.

Then, a louder boom interrupted him—

BOOM!

A pulse cannon blast echoed through the base, shaking the walls. A moment later, the reinforced entrance exploded inward in a cloud of smoke and fire.

Iron Man stepped through the breach.

Behind him, shadows flooded in.

The X-Men.

Global Daily's livestream hadn't stopped. Not for a second. Even during the twenty-minute flight to the base, millions of viewers had remained glued to their screens.

Now, they watched history unfold in real-time.

Eddie Locke, camera in hand, followed the X-Men and NYPD personnel as they moved through the massive dam facility above Alkali Lake.

"Viewers, we've arrived at the secret research base known as Weapon X..." Eddie reported breathlessly, trying to keep up. "Mr. Tony Stark has already infiltrated the perimeter and is searching for the hidden entrance mentioned by Adam Robert…"

He hesitated, glancing nervously around.

"We don't know whether Colonel Stryker is still inside... but we'll find out soon."

Seconds later, Iron Man located a concealed hatch beneath the dam's structure. His repulsors flared—and he blasted it open effortlessly.

The X-Men followed, descending quickly.

Eddie trailed behind, camera still rolling, flanked by officers. Though winded, he was brimming with adrenaline.

They entered the base.

Hell greeted them.

Iron Man, no longer bothering with restraint, tore through the outer guards with surgical precision. The repulsor blasts didn't kill—but they sent bodies flying against walls, knocked out cold.

Within minutes, the team arrived at the heart of the facility.

The truth was laid bare.

The Weapon X lab was built like a subterranean prison.

Hundreds of iron cages.

Each cage housed a Mutant, crammed into impossibly tight spaces, their bodies restrained, their abilities suppressed through brutal and dehumanizing measures.

Fire-wielders were doused with icy gas at regular intervals.

Ice-type Mutants were exposed to blistering heat via mirrored panels.

Those with wings were suspended mid-air, shackled like broken birds.

Others—too many—were simply strapped to tables, pierced with wires, tubes, needles. Some had machines connected directly to their throats... or their brains.

Whispers. Groans. The tortured hum of machines.

The horror was palpable.

Even Eddie Locke, who had seen warzones in his career, turned pale.

The camera caught everything.

Every cage. Every scream. Every mutilated body.

And not all the prisoners had powers.

Many were just ordinary people, likely abducted and experimented on without consent—stripped of their rights, their voices, and their names.

The audience watching around the world froze.

Even the most Mutant-skeptical viewers found their doubts crushed beneath the weight of this grotesque reality.

The X-Men snapped.

"Stryker... you're damned!" Wolverine roared.

With a feral growl, she extended her Adamantium claws and charged into the lab, shredding the locks and tearing the restraints off one cage after another.

Each freed Mutant brought another scream of rage. Another reason to keep going.

Storm raised her arms and released surges of wind to blow open security doors. Cyclops blasted equipment and power conduits. Phoenix disintegrated control panels with a single thought.

It was liberation—but it felt like vengeance.

The prison lab of Weapon X was no longer a secret. It was a stage.

And across the globe, people were watching it burn.

Meanwhile, on the third floor, Iron Man reached the central computer terminal.

A few repulsor bursts convinced the last few technicians to surrender. They fell to their knees, arms raised.

Tony connected to the mainframe.

Lines of data flooded the screens.

Eddie Locke aimed the camera.

Behind him, the audience gasped in disbelief as files were displayed publicly:

Experimental logs on Deadpool

Surgical records on Nightcrawler—revealing horrific brain experiments

A complete capture list of potential Mutants

Many of the listed targets were children. Some were still in middle school. Their families? Entirely ordinary. Bankers. Teachers. Factory workers.

Mutants—or suspected ones—were being hunted. Kidnapped. Tortured.

Tony Stark's jaw clenched.

The sight of Nightcrawler's brain being mapped and altered... it was too much.

"This is insanity," he muttered. "This isn't defense. It's genocide."

He turned to a sealed vault and raised his palm.

"Wilhelm Stryker!" his voice echoed through the halls. "On the honor of the Stark family—I promise, you will spend the rest of your life in a cell!"

At that very moment...

Wilhelm Stryker, just emerging from his office, collapsed again at the sight of Iron Man and the swarm of reporters behind him.

His legs gave out.

His eyes darted between the X-Men, the NYPD, the cameras.

And then he saw Eddie Locke—still broadcasting.

Still live.

Still recording his destruction.

"Fk!!"**

His scream of disbelief, rage, and despair echoed down the halls.

There would be no spin.

No excuse.

No redemption.

Wilhelm Stryker's era was over.

The Mutants' revenge—long delayed—had arrived.

And it brought with it righteous fury.