Chapter III

Chapter III: The Laboratory of Bolivar Trask

Cyclops was crouching behind a large wooden crate. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. The extermination of all mutants? He peeked up over the box. The scientist, who he had now learned was named Bolivar Trask, was fingering the box.

"You see, Mr. Lang, we humans are at the end of our time. Mutants have come to replace us, and, with mutants like this Magneto character around, it is apparent that they aren't willing to wait." Trask had a grave look on his face. "I don't know about you, Mr. Lang, but I believe that we homo sapiens should take matters into our own hands. That's why I created the sentinels. To destroy the mutants before they destroy us."

Cyclops was disgusted, and shocked. Where would the money for such an extensive project as this come from?

"I've scheduled a trial run. Under the streets of New York city, there is a mutant population known as the Morlocks. On February twenty-fifth, they will be know more."

A deep, swelling rage overtook Cyclops. One like he had never felt before. He stood up, and lifted his glasses. His rage was released in the form of a concentrated optic blast beam.

"You murderous monster!"

Bolivar Trask smiled. This would prove an interesting experiment indeed. He reached into his coat, and pulled out a remote. Five sentinels were activated.

The robots stood seven feet tall, their faces were grinning chrome skulls with glowing red eyes. They appeared to be dressed in futuristic battle armor. They had banded metal arms, and small machine guns mounted on their wrists. Their boots were had rockets strapped to them, and a small triangular piece of sheet metal across their backs ensured they would have lift. From this sheet, retractable metallic vulture wing protruded. They appeared to be the living embodiment of death.

Cyclops leapt backwards, letting off another optic blast. fire and sparks took the place of one sentinel's head. But four remained active, and countless hundreds were in an inactive state.

He focused, running through countless spatial geometry formula's in his head. He had tried this trick in the training, but had never implemented it in actual combat. He had found his angle, and, lifting his oakleys, he fired. On. Two Three. Four. With one shot, he had managed to destroy all four remaining sentinels. Now, he had to escape. He leapt through a window. He knew Trask wouldn't set the sentinels after him on a public street. It was risky business, and would end in the termination of the project. Scott Summers casually strolled back to the White House.

"Damn it!" Bolivar Trask was angry. All his hard work, and now someone knew about PROJECT: ARMAGEDDON. Now he would have to change his base of operations. He picked up his cellular phone. "Hello, Ms. Dakholme. We need a new warehouse."

On the plane ride back to Westchester, Scott told the professor about everything he saw.

"This is bad news indeed."

By the time they returned, the students were all off to bed. Storm and Jean were watching the evening news.

"Our top story tonight: the mutant terrorist Erik Lensherr, also known as Magneto, escaped from Stokes County Maximum Security Prison this evening. Authorities are on the lookout. He is unarmed, but considered to be highly dangerous. Do not try to apprehend him on your own....."

The Professor began to wheel away.

"Where are you going?" Storm asked.

"To Cerebro. Good Night."