The Clones’ Mission

While John interrogated Dr. White, his clones worked tirelessly to rescue the mutants. They had already taken control of the facility's systems, disabling alarms and cameras to ensure the operation went unnoticed.

The silence of the holding room shattered as the door burst open with a bang. Guards entered swiftly, their movements deliberate and precise.

Of the dozens of mutants once held captive, only seven remained alive—the others had succumbed to the cruel experiments conducted in this place. The guards began leading the survivors out, one by one.

Something felt different. This time, the guards weren't singling anyone out—they were taking everyone.

"No! Leave me alone!" one mutant cried, trembling.

"Don't! I can't take it anymore!" another begged, their voice cracking with desperation.

Their pleas echoed down the sterile corridors, but the guards stayed silent, moving with purpose.

As they walked, the mutants noticed something strange. The guards weren't heading toward the usual rooms of pain and experiments. The route felt unfamiliar. Yet fear kept their hope buried.

Their unease deepened as they passed through blood-soaked hallways littered with the lifeless bodies of guards. Terror gripped them tighter. What was happening?

At last, they exited through a heavy steel door. Blinding sunlight poured over them, forcing their eyes shut. For the first time in what felt like years, they felt the warmth of the sun on their skin. The midday sky above was bright and vast—a sharp contrast to the horrors left behind.

One guard stepped forward and placed a bag on the ground. "Take this," he said curtly.

The mutants exchanged nervous glances but made no move.

"It has money and rifles," another guard explained, gesturing toward the horizon. "Walk straight in that direction. You'll find a town where you can get food and water."

A third guard's tone grew graver. "Don't show your faces. You're either wanted as criminals now or officially dead. Don't contact your families. If they weren't the ones who betrayed you, they'll be the next targets. Trust no one."

The mutants froze, the weight of his words sinking in.

"Don't stay in that town for long," he continued. "Find a group that doesn't care about your past. Work for those who'll protect you, not exploit you."

They realized that the guards were letting them go, offering them a chance at freedom. The terror that had gripped them began to fade.

Hesitantly, one mutant stepped forward, grabbed the bag, and held it tightly.

The guards—or rather, John's clones in disguise—stood silently as the group began to move.

A boy at the back of the group hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. "Who are you?" he asked nervously.

The clones exchanged glances. One replied with detachment, "Just someone who knows what it's like to be hunted."

Another added bluntly, "Don't waste time asking. Survive. That's all you need to do."

The boy hesitated, then nodded, gripping the bag tighter as he turned to follow the others.

The clones watched the mutants until they disappeared over the horizon. Then, one by one, they vanished in puffs of smoke, their mission complete.

---

Inside, John was finishing his work.

After extracting every piece of information he could from Dr. White, he gripped the man's neck and yanked him from the chair, tearing wires free from his body. The sharp sound of ripping electrodes filled the room as White gasped, his eyes wide with terror.

Without hesitation, John drew a kunai from his pocket and plunged it into White's stomach.

"Aaahhh!" White screamed, clutching his abdomen as blood seeped through his pristine lab coat, staining it crimson.

John watched the scene with cold indifference as White collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony. The man's desperate pleas for help were meaningless to him now. Without a second glance, John turned away, already thinking about his next move.

At that moment, his clones entered the room. Only four had returned; the others were either completing tasks or had destroyed themselves.

One clone stepped forward and handed John a flash drive before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

Another approached, carrying items they had collected: stacks of cash, experimental drugs, and classified files. The clone emptied the contents into a mokeskin pouch before dissipating.

John glanced at the pouch, his mind calculating. The money could fund his future plans. The drugs and files might hold secrets to leverage or exploit.

Satisfied, he muttered, "Good work." He left the room, heading for the exit.

The facility's cameras had been disabled, ensuring no record of him remained. The clones had been meticulous—stopping the cameras first, then killing the guards and assuming their positions to make the footage appear like an inside job.

Memories from the clones' actions filled his mind as the last of them self-destructed.

John didn't rescue the mutants out of heroism—it wasn't his style. He freed them because he could. If the facility was going to be destroyed, ensuring the mutants' escape was another step in dismantling the operation completely.

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Author's pov

Should he bring back someone back with him?