Stryker's nightmares begins

AN: Late as usual. Got home a few hrs ago. Anyway, hope you saved some powerstones for me.

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Stryker's regeneration was faster than I expected, but it didn't matter. I had already planned for this. Watching him pull himself together, his missing flesh and bone reforming like a lizard growing back its tail, I knew this fight wasn't over. But that wasn't the point. Not today.

The world would know soon enough.

I slipped further into the shadows, carefully retreating from the scene. The detonations had done their job—Stryker's unit was in disarray, the trucks were destroyed, and most of his operatives were either dead or badly injured. But I knew the real threat wasn't the men with the guns or even Stryker himself.

It was the lie that was coming.

...

[Safehouse]

The television screen flickered, and I watched from a safe house miles away, monitoring the news feed from several major stations. I bought it using a fake identity and ID and maybe manipulated a couple of people's minds to keep this place safe. Just as I predicted, Stryker's power wasn't just in his physical abilities or his soldiers. It was in his reach, his influence. The news anchors were already spinning the story.

"Breaking news from the Bronx, where authorities are reporting a massive explosion in what they're calling a terrorist attack. Early reports indicate that a group of armed extremists, possibly mutants, were involved in a firefight with federal agents. The explosion, which destroyed several buildings in the area, was reportedly triggered by these extremists to avoid capture. The identities of those involved are still being investigated, but sources close to the investigation believe that a man known as Aron, a suspected mutant fugitive, was among those killed in the blast. Officials are withholding further details until next of kin can be notified."

A photo of me flashed on the screen. They had already declared me dead, yet dared to frame me. Clever. Well played. If that's how they want it... so be it. I'm game.

Now, the main problem is Jean. I just hope she doesn't do anything stupid and lose control of her power. I wanted to contact her to let her know that I'm alright, but there is a possibility that Stryker got spies at the school. I can't risk alerting them. I mean, if there are spies with telepathy immunity like me, then the Professor or Jean won't be able to detect them, right? Or, they might be keeping a close eye on the school from outside, and contacting them might alert them.

It's best not to get her or anyone at the school involved in this until I get rid of the threat completely.

...

[Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters] [3rd Person POV]

In the quiet halls of the Xavier Institute, students and teachers alike had gathered in the lounge area, eyes glued to the television. The news of the explosion was playing out, and the grim headline declaring Aron's death scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

Jean Grey stood at the center of the room, her brow furrowed as she watched the broadcast. Beside her, Kitty, Jubilee, and Rogue wore the same grim expressions. Psylocke, Storm, the Professor, and the others were sitting on couches, watching the same screen with heavy, weighted stares.

Professor X sat forward in his wheelchair and tapped his temples, his brow furrowing deeper at the broadcast.

"Just as I feared," He mumbled, "They have begun to move."

"He... He isn't dead, right?" Kitty stuttered in shock.

Jean didn't respond immediately. She could feel the surge of emotions around her, the shock and sadness rippling through the group. But something nagged at her, a feeling deep in the back of her mind, like a thread she couldn't quite grasp. She knew that Aron wasn't dead. Her man was strong enough to defeat three omega-level mutants in an instant, there was no way he would die this easily. But...

'How dare they call him a terrorist,' She growled in her thoughts, feeling her anger bubbling forth.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Logan growled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've seen enough people die to know when something doesn't smell right. Stryker's involved—makes me think it's all one big lie."

Beast, ever the logical one, adjusted his glasses. "Stryker has a history of manipulating events to fit his narrative. The fact that this explosion conveniently eliminates a known mutant fugitive fits his modus operandi perfectly."

Jean nodded, though her eyes were distant, lost in thought. Then she remembered that Aron had absorbed her Phoenix Force. So, if she used her Phoenix Force to try to sense the other portion of the Force that was within him, then maybe... Her body began to glow with a faint red hue. A massive wave of energy swept over the room as the temperature began to rise.

"Jean..." The Professor's voice, warning and concerned at the same time, sounded out.

"I can't sense him," she finally said, her voice soft but steady. "It's as if...he's vanished." She stopped her Phoenix energy from flowing. She almost lost control for a moment there due to her unstable emotions.

Logan grunted. "Doesn't mean he's dead. The kid's slippery. I'll bet my claws he's still out there, hiding somewhere."

Scott's frown deepened, but he didn't argue. "Even if he is, Stryker's not going to stop. He'll go after him with everything he got."

Storm stepped forward, her voice calm but firm, "Then we will save our friend with everything we have."

"Agreed," Beast nodded. "Stryker went too far this time. If we just sit this one out, next time, he might target one of us."

"That's not the worst part," The Professor said with a grim expression. "Eric won't let this chance go. We have to find Aron before Eric contacts him and as you all know, he has his way with words."

After a brief pause, Xavier turned toward Beast.

"Hank, contact Fury. He needs to know about this situation. Tell him to stop Stryker or we'll step in and do what's necessary. Aron must not fall into Eric's hands."

"Of course." Beast nodded before walking out of the room, pulling a phone from his coat.

Logan let out a low grunt and looked up toward Jean.

"Listen, Jean. I know you are worried and wanna find him, but don't do anything stupid. We'll find him."

...

[Stryker's Residence – Late Night] [3rd Person POV]

The mansion was quiet. Stryker was sleeping in his room instead of hunting Aron, not because he wanted to sleep, it's just that every time he uses his regeneration power it drains his stamina and exhausts him beyond anything. The serum he took was not perfect. His men are still working to perfect it. So, he needs at least 12 hours rest. The reason he turned himself into a mutant was because he believed that he had to survive long enough to carry out God's will and remove the imperfect beings from this world to bring forth the balance. And when his job is done, he'll kill himself.

Aron moved through the shadows effortlessly, silent as the night itself. The security systems, though state-of-the-art, were no match for his abilities. Manipulating the guards had been child's play and avoiding the cameras was a child's play to him. With his super speed, he ran avoiding every camera, trap, and everyone.

He read the guard's mind and found out that Stryker's bedroom was on the second floor, hidden away behind thick walls and heavy doors. Aron reached it with ease, phasing through the wall. There, Stryker lay asleep, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. It was almost peaceful—almost.

Aron's gaze hardened as he watched the man who had tried to frame him, to paint him as a terrorist. Stryker, who had manipulated the world's view of mutants for so long, thought himself untouchable. Tonight, that illusion would shatter.

Aron made a sharp blade with his ice power.

He approached the bed without a sound, standing over Stryker for a moment, watching the man's unknowing face. A flicker of anger crossed Aron's eyes before he moved swiftly.

The blade sliced through the air, meeting flesh with barely a whisper. One clean cut, then another, and Stryker's arms were severed from his body, his legs next. Blood sprayed across the sheets, but Aron moved back calmly, watching as the pain hit Stryker like a truck.

Stryker's eyes shot open, a scream tearing from his throat as the agony registered. His body convulsed, instinctively trying to flail, but his limbs were gone. He glanced down, horror filling his wide, bloodshot eyes as he saw the stumps where his arms and legs had once been.

Aron stood in the corner of the room, his expression unreadable as Stryker writhed in pain.

"Aron…" Stryker managed through gritted teeth, his voice ragged with shock and agony. "You… bastard…"

The man's mutation kicked in, his body already beginning to heal, the stumps where his arms and legs had been slowly regenerating. Flesh knitted itself back together, and bones regrew. The regeneration was fast—too fast for normal wounds—but Aron had expected that. It didn't matter.

He stepped forward, his voice cold and cutting.

"Yo, does it hurt? Well, it's just the beginning. I'm gonna take away your sleep from you starting today. Every time you try to sleep, I'm gonna slice your limbs and legs. When you eat, I'll poison your food including water. When you go to take a bath, I'll be there alright... I'll stab you a hundred times with ice spikes. When you are out on the road traveling, I'm gonna blow up your car. You hide a thousand feet deep, I'll find you and cut you in half. I'll make every single second of your life a living hell so, let's start now."

Aron used his ice blade to slice off Stryker's regenerating limbs again. Blood sprayed out like a fountain, dying the room red and making the walls and ceiling look like some gruesome crime scene. His eyes were cold and calm.

"Huh?" Stryker rubbed his eyes with his regrown arms and looked around. There was no one in the room. Not even the traces of his own blood. He sat up huffing and drenched in his sweat. "A dream?" He looked at the clock. It was 6 in the morning. He quickly took out his gun from the bedside table drawer and looked around the room. Nothing. Everything looked clean. "Phew..." He sighed in relief, dismissing everything as a dream. "It felt so real."

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