Chapter Twenty-Five:
The office was dimly lit, located too far below ground for windows. The only illumination came from a small desk lamp, and its stark light cast black shadows around the room. It was strangely furnished with one black desk surrounded by a wide variety of computers and electronic screens, which were all currently not powered up. The monitors stared blankly at the room's only occupant like a dozen dead and shining eyes reflecting back dimly.
General William Stryker sat at the desk, his eyes closed with frightening serenity. His chin was resting gently against the fingertips of his steepled hands, as if he were lost in silent prayer. His brow was furrowed slightly, the desk lamp alighting his lined and weathered features in such a way that his eyes seemed quite deeply set back in his face.
But, prayers and meditating thoughts were not what now preoccupied him.
He was waiting, with quiet patience, for an expected phone call.
It had hardly been two hours since the prototype was dispatched on its first mission, but Stryker knew any conflict would not last long.
The black phone sitting to his left rang sharply in the silent office. Stryker lowered his hands and reached for the receiver with a curious, though unpleasant, expression. He lifted it carefully from the cradle and held it to his ear.
"Report," was all his said, though the tone was light and conversational. He had been in a very agreeable mood since he watched the Sentinel fly away from his base, and the reply he received made him smile. The expression was horrid in the shadows, his eyes shining from the dark sockets and his top row of teeth exposed to the gums.
"The Sentinel is returning, sir," the voice of a random solder said quickly, "It has acquired three mutants successfully...all are believed to be unconscious but alive."
"Lensherr?" Stryker asked and there was a long pause before the soldier replied.
"No, sir," the soldier said, "He escaped in one of our helicopters..."
Stryker's grin widened. There had been a reason he had insisted on sending regular, metallic aircraft.
The soldier continued to speak, "He seems to have abandoned it in an airfield outside the city. His implanted locator is out of range, but recon reports an unregistered aircraft is currently following the Sentinel's path..."
"Excellent," Stryker said softly, and then spoke commandingly over the phone, "Tell recon to keep tracking that jet and keep me posted. You others begin heading back to the base. I want you to maintain positions outside this compound. If Lensherr wants in, we're gonna be damn sure he doesn't get out."
"Sir, there's something else," the soldier said quickly, "The Wolverine was sighted by our ground troops, along with several other mutants identified in our files as prior threats to..."
"Don't concern yourself with them, soldier," Stryker interrupted, "Lensherr and Charles Xavier have been setting their own against each other for years. If mutants want to kill each other, we won't be the ones to stop them. However, if Xavier's mutants also assume the need to find where our little prototype came from, we'll be ready for them. In the end, those two and their followers may do the world a favor and destroy each other."
Stryker laughed suddenly at this thought, his voice harsh and barking. The soldier on the other end of the phone flinched involuntarily at the noise.
"My orders stand, soldier," the General finally said, "Keep positions until further notice."
"Yes, sir," the soldier replied and then the line clicked and fell dead.
Stryker put the receiver down gently, and continued to smile. Eight months of planning were finally coming to fruition. With Lensherr approaching, what had begun at Alkalai Lake would finally end...and mutants, those freaks of all things natural, would perish under Stryker's orders, even if he had to kill them one at a time...
Suddenly, the black phone rang again, and Stryker frowned. He picked up the receiver quickly, assuming there must be some problem with the mission, and anger filled his face.
"Yes," he shouted, "Report!"
"Good evening, William," a low and overly pleasant voice said and the anger in the General's face changed quickly into fear, "I trust all went well...with your little test tonight?"
Stryker felt a cold sweat break down his spine and he took a deep breath to keep his voice from shaking.
"Yes..." he repeated, "Everything...everything went perfectly..."
"Not...quite perfect...correct?" the voice scolded gently, as a parent would to a child.
Stryker shook his head, "No...no, not quite perfect. Lensherr...escaped..."
"I'm very sorry to hear that, William," the stranger said sympathetically, "But I'm confident you will get what you want very soon."
The voice of the stranger on the other end of the line then became more vicious.
"In the meantime...I do believe that machine did take a few other things from the scene, did it not? And those things are...currently...still alive...aren't they?"
Stryker nodded, "Yes...it did...they are…"
"It would be a great shame if they came to some...harm...before I arrived to collect them..." the voice said threateningly, "In fact, it would be a shame if any of the approaching mutants were somehow...killed...before they had been put to their own uses..."
Stryker was breathing heavily as the stranger spoke. His free hand began to shake, and slowly, out of his control, drew a loaded gun from his desk drawer. Stryker did not bother to struggle as his own hand pointed the gun to his temple. The stranger's voice reverberated over the line and the receiver shuttered.
"It would be a great shame..." the voice said to the General, "...if your uses...your promises... ran out, before you were able to complete your work."
Stryker nodded again, and even though the stranger was communicating with him from a great distance over the phone, the General had no doubt the stranger knew his every movement.
"Very good," the voice said, and Stryker's armed hand fell away as he regained control of his limbs, "I'm glad we understand each other. You keep your promise..."
The stranger waited for Stryker to repeat his vow.
"To give you what you want..."
The voice sounded pleased, "And I will keep my promise. To help you achieve your goals. To free this world of the plague known at 'mutants.' Once my work is complete...no mutant will remain on this earth..."
The stranger then sounded quite friendly again, "Good bye, William. It's been wonderful talking with you again."
Click.
The line once again fell dead, and Stryker's hand trembled as the receiver fell from his grip. The entire office seemed to have filled with a numbing cold, the sensation Stryker remembered from his near demise at Alkalai Lake. The one and only day he had seen the stranger in person.
Give me what I want…
The memory of the stranger's words pounded in his mind.
Shortly after the stranger had helped him escape a water death, Stryker began to receive numerous phone calls, always the same greeting tone, always the vicious demands.
Gather them, William. Gather them, but do not kill them. I want them alive. Any. All. All but Lensherr…I promise, he will be yours to destroy as you please…
The General, in the moment of failure after the dam broke, had wanted nothing more than what the stranger promised. A chance for revenge, a new chance to solve the 'mutant problem,' the mutant plague.
And the stranger had not disappointed, giving Stryker power and technology beyond his imagination, the means to the ultimate end of mutant kind.
At one…simple…non-negotiable…price.
The mutants, as much as possible, would be taken alive. Gathered by Stryker's new Sentinels, and then given to the stranger when the time came.
For what reason, Stryker did not know. He did not care. At least, he thought he did not care.
The stranger was not one to question. He was powerful, unseen, dangerous…and had proven his ability to control Stryker and his men without ever appearing in person. No failure or mistake would be acceptable. With such powers, the stranger could have been a mutant himself for all the General knew, but somehow he doubted it.
Somehow…he doubted the stranger from the wilderness was anything that close to human.
Stryker stood and marched quickly out of his office. The Sentinel was returning and his enemies were approaching. He would worry about the arrival of the stranger when it was imminent. Any lingering thoughts were shoved away, any emotion or empathy buried under his hate, and Stryker barked orders to his men to prepare for their 'guests.'
***
Author's note: For some reason, when I was reading reviews today, I had the sudden urge to write cliffhangers. I just kept hearing it over and over again. Hmm… Maybe I have to end book 2 with a huge cliffhanger… like a Sentinel stealing some of our main characters away while one bad guy followed to find another bad guy who might be being controlled by a REALLY bad guy, and the good guys are still catching up with bad guy number one. Hmm…
WTF?!
No, this isn't the end of book 2. Still have one more bit to wrap up. :-)
BTW, "Toad-age" has now been added to my MS Word Spell checker. Of course there's not much of it now considering he's unconscious flying east in the belly of a giant killer robot. Hmm…
PS: Sid = Virtuosity = Russell Crowe = very happy Leen. Thank you.
PPS: Read Prologue… Guess the stranger! (He is a cross over!)
PSS: Lil-Sis WISHES she had the inside scoop. Mwahahaha! (Yes, I do practice. Thank you.)
PPSS: It's like 1:00 a.m. so if these sound like the ramblings of a sleep deprived framer, you're right! Get yourself a cookie. Thank you for reviews. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…………..