The sound of water had started as a far off roar, that grew closer and closer until it absorbed his whole being. He could hear it ripping and crushing the forest behind him. He remembered tugging futilely at the chains, refusing to believe that he could die.
And then - silence, and darkness, and pressure became his world. He had hoped for a calm acceptance of his fate. Instead, there was only anger at those who had done this to him. His lungs burned for air, but he kept his mouth and nose shut tightly until he passed out from lack of oxygen.
God only knows how long he had drifted. But drifted he had, for, miraculously, he had awoken in shallow water, miles downstream from the dam. For a time, he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there, but over a few days, memory had returned. And foremost in his memory was that mutants had done this to him.
The time spent without oxygen had unhinged him - slightly would perhaps be an understatement. It had taken him a year and a half to rebuild his organization - get funding, equipment, staff - but he'd managed. And now -
It was time to send a message that they wouldn't forget, and a school full of dead muties seemed like a good place to start.
Stryker smiled as the bubble was lowered into place. Life was good.