"Jesus…"

One of the few soldiers Lexin Grey had positioned in the bushes put a hand to cover his widely gaping mouth as he watched his allies fight and die right before his eyes at the hand of the mutant.

Another next to him – Williams, Lexin thought his name was – suddenly took to his feet and clicked back his rifle.  "I'm not going to watch this.  We're getting them out of there."

Lexin Grey instantly held out a strong arm across the soldier's chest.  "No," he said, staring forward intently.

Fury twisted within the adamant soldier at the outrageous order.  "No mutant," he said the word like it was a disease, like it was a patch of boils festering underneath his tongue, "is going to take the lives of my platoon."  He pointed his rifle to the vicious scene.  "No hot-headed kid with a chip on his shoulder is going to take those extraordinary men and women away from their friends, their families-"

"No one can save them."  His voice was a cold contrast to William's.  "You go out there, soldier, and you will die among them."

During any other time, the anguish welling up within the massive man's enraged face would have seemed out of place, almost comical.  Lexin turned away, seemingly unmoved by the tortured man before him.

But Lexin understood the man's pain all too well.  He had endured it himself, and like any survivor, it had made him stronger, stronger than he could have possibly imagined.

Abundant as it was, his strength would never be fierce enough to bring down the full population of mutants.  He knew that and had begrudgingly come to accept it.   But his force would take down some, perhaps even enough to begin the massacre of their entire wretched race and bring an end to the controversy.

Lexin was not a comforting man, but his voice did soften when he confronted the soldier before him.  "When we get to the campsite.  When we capture them, you will be the first of these men to confront that mutant."  For a brief moment, their eyes met. "You will be the first to show him exactly how extraordinary those soldiers out there were."

Williams shook ever so slightly as he held his rifle, wishing it was something cruder, more primitive, like an heavy ax or hatchet.

"You will be the first," Lexin Grey said with a dignity beyond his years, "to show that mutant the superiority of your ancestors and the reason we have been the dominant race on this planet since the dawn of our existence."

When the faded yellow Mustang raced off into the stormy night, the troops went to work, collecting the dead, reviving the unconscious, and removing any proof of their existence.

Officer Lexin Grey, Williams, and the twelve remaining soldiers were miles from the house when the police zoomed in from their station fifteen minutes later. 

Only an hour after their departure, a new rookie cop on the force carefully loomed bright yellow tape labeled "crime scene" around the oak trees in the Blaizes' front yard and strained to listen to the newscast that would soon reach every home in America.

"I'm here live at 1372 Port Terrace where tonight tragedy has struck an East Philadelphia home.  Behind me," newscaster Pat Chirachy proclaimed with an outstretched palm, "lies the remains of yet another mutant-related attack.  At two 'o clock this morning, intruders broke into the quiet Surburban home, destroying everything in their path.  Though police have yet to confirm the names of the mutants suspected in this assault, they are looking for the twin children of this home, Lucas and Nora Blaize, who are believed to have been kidnapped during the night." 

She paused suddenly, both to show respect for the unfortunate occurrence and to let their smiling high school photographs flash onto the screen. 

"It is believed that the kidnappers stole the vehicles from their home, a 1966 yellow Mustang and a pale blue 2003 Ford Windstar.  A local search party has begun here in East Philadelphia, and police have told us that if anyone has any information on the whereabouts of Lucas or Nora Blaize to call this number on your screen."  

The young cop watching shook his head sadly and went to see if the police had found any other evidence on the bastards responsible.

"The KYW news team will be updating you throughout the day and night as we discover the details of this heartbreaking case.  This is Pat Chirachy in East Philadelphia.  Back to you, Kent."