DC/Marvel: This Guy is Insane

Stryker's body stiffened, and he spun around towards the source of the voice. Without him knowing, a group of strangers had appeared behind him, watching. Among them were Alan and Wade, the two men he yearned to eliminate.

"Don't be nervous. We're old acquaintances," Alan said, stepping forward and clapping a hand on Stryker's shoulder. He then looked at the clones in the incubation tanks. "Tell me, what evil scheme are you cooking up now?"

Wade, equally familiar, draped an arm over Stryker's other shoulder. "Are you cloning me again?"

Caught between a madman and a lunatic, Stryker stood rigid, daring not to move a muscle.

"Wade," Alan teased, "you've got five new brothers."

An enraged Wade, already pointing a gun at Stryker, demanded, "Do you love me that much?"

"Don't be impulsive. Let's talk this through," Stryker stammered nervously.

At that moment, Apocalypse stepped forward. He looked at the clones, extended a hand, and with a wave of his power, disintegrated the ultimate Weapon X experiments. He detested technology. His ultimate goal was to return the world to a more primitive state, where mutants would rule as gods. Besides, he needed to recruit the mutants imprisoned in the base. If he used clones to do his bidding, what would those victimized mutants think? They would surely believe that Apocalypse and Stryker were two peas in a pod.

"Surprise, surprise. We meet again." Alan winked mischievously. "Old Stryker, from the first time I saw you, I felt a special connection. That's why I've been giving you special treatment, allowing you to live a few more chapters."

Thanks a lot, Stryker thought, on the verge of speaking, as if he could already sense his end.

"Looks like you're too moved to speak," Alan said slowly. "I didn't kill you at first for a simple reason. My previous boss was Charles. And you know, the X-Men are all about being righteous, acting like their 'no-kill' policy is some kind of moral high ground. They're completely insane, complicating things unnecessarily."

"Being a hero means solving ten percent of the problems while conveniently creating ninety percent of them, making themselves seem indispensable," Wade chimed in, nodding in agreement.

"We definitely get along well." Alan winked and made a "C" gesture with his hand. Wade, understanding instantly, mirrored the gesture, bringing their hands together to form a heart shape.

For a moment, they gazed at each other. The heart shape was aimed directly at the now-stiff Colonel Stryker. The atmosphere suddenly became very strange and awkward.

Alan, feigning shyness, explained, "My apologies. We just can't help but feel this mutual appreciation, a bond between true masters."

Wade clutched his face in mock horror. "Damn it, I actually felt a flutter in my chest for a second!"

It was a cringeworthy scene. Thankfully, everyone else was used to it.

But Stryker was experiencing this mental torture for the first time. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"We merely invite you to die."

Back to business. Stryker was now doomed. His death was necessary to appease the anger of the innocent mutants and to serve as a pledge of loyalty from his new followers.

A force field enveloped them, teleporting them to the chamber where the mutants were imprisoned.

Young men and women were confined in iron cages, their necks fitted with devices that suppressed their mutant abilities. All bore visible injuries. Upon seeing Stryker, their eyes burned with fury. Hundreds of mutants, secretly captured from society, were imprisoned here. Given the current social climate, where mutants were widely rejected, no one even cared about their mysterious disappearances.

Apocalypse raised a hand, and sand coalesced to unlock the cages. The sand then flowed like a gentle breeze into the inhibitor devices, freeing the mutants. However, their eyes, having endured inhumane torment, held only wariness. They no longer trusted easily.

"Now, let's hear a few words from Boss Apocalypse! A round of applause, please!"

Clap, clap, clap…

Alan and Wade enthusiastically applauded, setting the mood for Apocalypse. While it looked out of place, it wasn't surprising coming from them.

"Do not worry, you are safe now," Apocalypse said, comforting them. "My name is En Sabah Nur. I ruled the First Dynasty of Egypt three thousand years ago. You may call me Apocalypse."

"I have a dream: to re-establish a world led by mutants. A world where no mutant has to live in fear, where they can openly display their identities, and where no one suffers discrimination or persecution…"

Upon hearing this, the mutants' eyes lit up. They had always had to hide, to be wary of everyone, even their own families. They yearned for a normal life.

"This is a great challenge. Humans will not allow us to rise to the light. They will see it as a challenge to their authority. Therefore, I need your support."

"Well said, Boss!" Wade shouted in agreement. Alan quickly pulled him back. "Wait for Boss to finish," he whispered. "He hasn't even gotten to the climax yet. We're the mood-setters; we need to wait."

"I'm gradually building the atmosphere, creating an impassioned mood layer by layer," Wade explained.

Seeing Apocalypse's displeased glance, Alan and Wade wisely shut up.

"Such a grand undertaking! Every participant will be remembered in history. Your names will be sung and celebrated by future generations." As he spoke, Apocalypse raised his hands and clenched his fists, declaring with power, "We, mutants, are not freaks! Mutants are not monsters! Mutants are evolution! Mutants are the future!"

These words resonated deeply within them, stirring a sense of belonging.

"Mutants are not freaks! Mutants are not monsters! Mutants are evolution! Mutants are the future!"

…

At the same time, the mutants raised their fists, shouting in unison.

"I almost believe it myself," Alan muttered.

"But you wrote the lines," Wade said with contempt.

Alan clasped his hands to his chest, his eyes distant. "Actually, my dream is to be a writer."

"I didn't realize you had a literary side," Wade teased.

"You misunderstand. I meant a writer who sits at home."

"…"

As Apocalypse lowered his hands, the shouting quickly ceased. The crowd waited expectantly for his instructions.

THUD!

Stryker was thrown to the ground. Apocalypse conjured a dagger, placing it before them. "He is the murderer who persecuted mutants. If you wish to follow me, stab him to prove your resolve." This was a blood pact, a formal initiation. Everyone would share the responsibility.

These mutants, who had lived such meager lives, now hesitated to retaliate against their tormentor. They had never killed before. Of course, courage in numbers was a powerful thing. If one person started, others would follow. It was human nature.

A young man with a severed arm angrily picked up the dagger and walked towards Stryker, preparing to strike.

"I am a Colonel in the military! Don't be foolish! You have a bright future! Don't do something you'll regret… Ah!"

The next moment, Stryker clutched his midsection, howling in pain.

Ah…

His screams.

They echoed. They lingered.

They did not stop for a long, long time.

[Chapter Complete]

***

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