A Dangerous Game #34

Author's note: Come on people, I'm not seeing nearly enough power stones. I'm willing to work with ya'll, publish double updates more often to compensate for the overly complicated nature of the next dozen or so chapters, but ya'll need to work with me too. It's hard to find motivation to write when the story is falling through the ranks like a friggen rock in the ocean.

I normally don't care about this stuff, but ranking is important to every story in its earlier stages since it gives more exposure, and more exposure means more readers. SO DO IT! JUST DO IT! GIVE ME THOSE DAMNED POWER STONES!

...

A disdainful snort escaped Wolverine's lips in response to Evan's proposition, his rugged features twisting into a grimace of skepticism. "The X-men don't need help from some dubious allies," he retorted, his tone laced with a gruff defiance that was characteristic of his nature. His stance exuded a sense of self-sufficiency, an assertion that their path had been walked alone and would continue as such.

Evan's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes locking onto Wolverine's as if engaging in a silent challenge. "We've been doing just fine on our own," Wolverine stated, his voice a growl that echoed his steadfast belief in the strength of their team. The tension between them was palpable, a clash of perspectives that simmered beneath the surface.

Evan's response was swift, his tone laced with a hint of incredulity. He turned his head slightly to face Wolverine, his gaze unflinching as he posed a question. "And how long do you reckon that will last?" The words hung in the air, a rhetorical query that underscored the harsh realities they faced. The weight of uncertainty settled around them like an invisible shroud.

A scoff of his own accompanied Evan's words, a derisive echo that mirrored Wolverine's earlier reaction. His head shook dismissively, a gesture that seemed to dismiss any illusion of enduring stability. "With super threats on the rise all over the world," Evan continued, his voice tinged with a grave solemnity, "everyone is arming against mutants."

The details he painted were stark, a mosaic of forces that were aligning against them. Evan's voice took on a somber note as he outlined the array of adversaries they were up against. "Law enforcement agencies, militaries, even gangs and terrorists," he listed, each category a testament to the broad spectrum of opposition they faced.

The gravity of Evan's words settled heavily in the room, casting a shadow over their discourse. Charles Xavier's countenance shifted, his typically serene expression marred by a troubled understanding. The truth in Evan's assessment was undeniable, a stark reality that collided with Xavier's idealistic hopes.

As the weight of the conversation deepened, Xavier's smile turned bitter, a fleeting expression that acknowledged the complexities of their situation. "The X-men have stood for justice and equality since our forming," he began, his voice carrying a thread of resolve. But his words were cut short as Evan's shake of the head halted his argument.

"It wouldn't matter," Evan interjected, his tone resolute. The finality in his voice held an air of certainty that refused to be swayed. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on Xavier's troubled visage. "People are growing more fearful and angry with every incident that's remotely related to the supernatural," he stated matter-of-factly, his words carrying the weight of undeniable truth.

Evan's voice, carrying the weight of an unwavering truth, held the room in a tight grip. His words, delivered in a matter-of-fact tone, etched the path of impending crisis with clarity. "Soon, this anger and fear will reach the bursting point, and there will only be one outlet; the X-men..." His proclamation hung in the air, a stark declaration of the inevitable collision between mounting tension and the emblem of their team.

As the silence lingered, Evan seized the moment to articulate his argument further, his determination unwavering. His gaze shifted from Wolverine to Xavier and back again as he elaborated on his reasoning. "The X-men are the only mutant group to work in the light," he began, his words steady and unwavering, "And unaffiliated with any great power to boot-- the perfect target."

The implications of his statement were profound, a realization that sent ripples through the room. Evan's tone held a note of caution as he pressed forward, underlining the gravity of their situation. "Unless you start fighting propaganda with propaganda and make the world see things from your perspective," he urged, his words carrying a weight of urgency.

The room's occupants, Wolverine and Xavier, stood as emblematic of differing approaches—Wolverine's rugged individualism and Xavier's steadfast belief in diplomacy. Evan's proposition seemed to straddle the line between their viewpoints, a pragmatic acknowledgment of the storm that was gathering.

Evan's head shook, his expression tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation as he neared his conclusion. "Then everyone within this mansion, students, teachers, maybe even the janitorial staff," he listed, his tone heavy with the weight of the potential outcomes, "they will end up imprisoned, on the run, dead or worse."

...

The weight of frustration that had settled upon Domino's shoulders was palpable as the connection with Sebastian Shaw ended. The air within the confines of Shaw's safehouse villa felt charged, a reflection of the complex emotions that churned within her.

Her partnership with Shaw had always been transactional, a calculated maneuver to bring her closer to her true target, Robert Kelly. But now, Shaw's abrupt decision to discard Kelly as a pawn left Domino seething with vexation.

The repercussions of this unexpected turn were manifold, and Domino's mind whirred with the implications. Shaw's abandonment of Kelly didn't just sever her sole link to the senator; it rendered all the effort she had invested up to this point meaningless. The purpose that had driven her to infiltrate this dangerous game seemed to crumble, leaving her suspended in a void of uncertainty.

With a deep inhale, she tried to steady herself, her fingers automatically gravitating to the digital wristwatch on her person. The holographic projection that materialized before her displayed a figure of undeniable stature. Tall and imposing, the man's presence was unmistakable even in the ethereal form of light.

His broad shoulders seemed to emanate strength, and his short white hair contrasted sharply against piercing blue eyes. One of those eyes, an artificial orange light, cast an eerie glow, a testament to the interplay of technology and biology.

The prosthetics that replaced his left arm and shoulder were a sleek shade of stainless steel, a visual reminder of the sacrifices he had made in his pursuit of power. As he gazed at Domino, his demeanor held a mixture of impatience and scrutiny.

His voice, when he spoke, was a calculated blend of authority and caution. "I thought I told you not to contact me until your mission is over," he admonished, the words laced with an undercurrent of disapproval. The phrase "especially not from Shaw's safehouse" carried a weight of its own, hinting at the heightened risk and compromised security associated with this location.

The scowl etched upon Domino's features mirrored her simmering frustration. The connection with the holographic projection of Cable buzzed with an underlying tension, as the conversation unfolded in the confines of Shaw's safehouse villa. The weight of the situation bore down on her, a palpable reminder of the shifting sands of her mission.

Her voice, when she spoke, held a tinge of exasperation as she declared, "It doesn't matter anymore, Cable." The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of shattered plans and abandoned paths. The complex web of allegiances that had driven her actions had been abruptly torn apart by Shaw's reevaluation of his priorities.

"Shaw is severing his ties with Kelly." Domino explained. The very foundation upon which her mission rested had crumbled, leaving her stranded in the aftermath.

Cable's response was measured, his voice carrying an air of contemplation as he absorbed the new information. Swiftly gathering his thoughts, he replied, "Then there is no point in staying at Shaw's safehouse." His words held a pragmatic edge, a recognition of the need to adapt to the ever-changing landscape of their dangerous game.

The core objective remained unchanged, and Cable reiterated it with unwavering resolve. "But your mission remains the same," he stressed, his tone unyielding, "protect Robert Kelly at all costs. His survival is your number one priority." The weight of the directive was clear in his voice, a reflection of the gravity of their mission and the consequences of failure.

Domino's resolve held firm even as her frustration simmered beneath the surface. Her voice, though edged with tension, carried a note of inevitability as she posed a question that had been brewing in her mind.

"What about the mutant team?" she inquired, her voice a mixture of concern and determination. The bond she shared with her team couldn't be easily discarded, and the prospect of leaving them behind didn't sit well with her.

Cable's response was decisive, his tone leaving little room for negotiation. "We cannot afford any distractions," he asserted, his voice tinged with authority. He continued, "Besides, they are loytal to you. Without you, their connection to Shaw weakens, and they lose their reason to serve him." The practicality of his words didn't soften the reality he presented. The line between necessity and sacrifice was drawn with precision.

Domino's frown deepened, the furrow of her brows reflecting the turmoil within her. Her voice held a note of resignation as she countered, "Shaw won't release them willingly."

Cable's shake of his head carried an air of somber realism. "They are replaceable to Shaw," he stated plainly, his voice devoid of sentiment. "Countless mutants are at his disposal." His gaze held Domino's, a silent reminder of the harsh truth that underpinned their world. The balance between expendability and power was a precarious one.

The weight of Cable's gaze lingered as he continued, his tone shifting slightly as he highlighted a fact that couldn't be ignored. "You, on the other hand..." His words trailed off, leaving the unspoken implications hanging in the air. Domino's value as a filed leader and a combat instructor was immeasurable to Shaw. He would never let her go without a fight.

Domino's reaction was a mixture of frustration and resignation. Her hand found its way to her forehead, her fingers rubbing at her temples as she muttered, "Great... just fucking great."

...

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