Prologue 11:
General William Striker hung limply from the cement wall in bitter defeat. He did not feel the cold chains wrapped around his body and face anymore as a strange numbness ran through him. He supposed it was the beginning of hypothermia, but considering he was about to drown under Alkalai Lake's waters, it did not really seem to matter.
His plans had failed. He had sacrificed everything to his intended end, his career, his soldiers, his son, and mutants still walked the face of the earth.
He knew this because he had come face to face with quite a few in his last moments. First, Magneto and his followers, and then the Wolverine had found him.
A single dog tag and chain lay glittering in the snow beneath him. The signature of his brilliant experiment discarded among the ruined waste of his base.
Before Wolverine had walked away, Striker made one final vow to him and every mutant freak in the world.
"Someday!" he cried, "Someone will continue what I started here, Wolverine! Someday!"
The air was cold and biting as he breathed. Any part of his body that was not numb was burning with pain. The flesh of his face was sticking to the cold chains, and he closed his eyes.
"Someday..." he whispered, "Someday...someone will destroy you all..."
"And why can't it be you?" a strange voice suddenly said.
Striker opened his eyes painfully, a gaped at the figure before him.
A man in a black coat stood before him, smiling politely. He was tall and pale, as if he had not stood in the sunlight for many years. He wore a simple wool hat and held a plain black cane.
Despite the bitter chill and impending flood, the man looked quite calm. He could have been strolling through a park, taking in the morning air. He most certainly was out of place in an empty wasteland with nothing around for miles except the underground base.
Striker tried to speak, but his throat locked and he struggled again to breathe.
"Who…" he coughed, "Who…"
The stranger looked at him with a feigned pity that hid a cold disgust.
"Tell me, General," the strange man continued, "Why can't it be you?"
The man took slow, deliberate steps towards Striker as he spoke and the General had no choice but to listen.
"Do you think you have lost?" the man asked, "Do you think all your work has been in vain? Well, what if I told you that you need not die today. What if I told you, your work could go on…"
As the man approached, Striker felt the chill around him grow. It was impossible, but the frigid air was getting colder.
"I have a proposal for you, General," the man said, "A way for you to continue your fight to wipe all of those unnatural creatures from this world, and ensure the preservation of the human race."
Striker held the man's gaze as he closed in. The man's eyes had no real color, just the same dark black color as his clothes. Striker shivered again, but listened to the man's words intently.
"What happened to humanity today was not your fault, William," he continued, "This was the work of mutants. That mutant Xavier and your mutant son. They waited until you thought you were safe and then, they turned on you. They betrayed you. Your own son…"
Yes, Striker thought, any shred of guilt he may have held about the attacked on humanity disappearing, It was THEIR FAULT. Those mutants…it's all THEIR FAULT…
"That's right, William," the man said, "They are the cause of humanity's pain. And I'm offering you the chance to see your dreams fulfilled. You will have the power to change the world. Remember, they think your dead. The Wolverine saw you bound, and he knows of the coming flood. I will give you the chance for revenge. And, I promise, you would have resources at your disposal that you have never imagined…"
Striker's eyes widened as the stranger spoke. The loss he felt now changed into a vicious rage. He would show them, every single mutant…he would make them pay.
"And, I only ask one thing in return…" the man said calmly. He pondered a moment on his next words, but he could tell by the look on Striker's face that the General would agree to his terms.
"Give me what I want…" the man began, "…and I'll give you what you want. Agreed?"
From a short distance away, Striker heard the dam crumble, and the rush of water that flowed toward them. He glanced upward, knowing he would not be able to see the water until it was upon them, and then look back at the stranger with panic.
The man stood calmly, even as the tide broke against the cement wall. Striker tried to scream and it took a few moments for him to realize that the water had parted around them. On either side of him, the waters of Alkalai Lake flowed violently forward, and joined again behind the stranger.
"Choose quickly, William," the stranger said, somehow making himself heard over the torrent, "The water will not be held back for long…"
Striker glanced around in awe and fear. He looked down at the stranger and tried to speak. The man gave the General an impatient and vicious glare, all his previous civility gone.
"Yes…" Striker finally managed, "Yes...whatever you want…"
The stranger grinned broadly, though it was not a pleasant expression.
"Excellent…" he said, "Very well, General. You have made a wise decision. And, unlike Mr. Lensherr, I look forward to seeing you again…"
The man's voice faded away as Striker felt himself slipping again into unconsciousness.
"Just remember…the debt will need to be paid…"
