Chapter 90:
[Spartan POV]
[Council Building, Genosha]
Without warning, Wanda lets out a sharp cry of pain, clutching her head, "Augh!" The sound slices through the moment, shattering the fragile calm we'd just created. I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat as I grab her shoulders, steadying her. "Wanda, are you okay?!" My voice is full of concern, and I try to keep it calm, but I can feel the tension flooding back into my body like a tide crashing against the shore. Her eyes are wide, wild, glowing with a fierce, deep scarlet energy that flickers and pulses, uncontrolled. It's a familiar sight, but this time, something's different—something's wrong. Her powers feel unstable and dangerous. I tighten my grip on her arms, trying to ground her, to get her to focus. "Wanda, talk to me. What's happening?" I ask again, my voice more urgent now. She blinks rapidly, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The confusion in her eyes is stark, panic swimming beneath the surface as her gaze darts around the room like she's searching for something that isn't there—yet. Wanda's hands grip my arms, "It's coming! Ultron is coming!" Suddenly, EPYON's voice cuts through the haze in my mind, sharp and urgent. "Alert. An unknown object approaching Genosha at high speed. Impact imminent." My visor flashes red with the data—whatever it is, it's big, and it's coming fast. I glance around the room and see the same reaction on the faces of the others—Cap, Cyclops, Jean—everyone's getting the same alert, and the tension snaps into place like a drawn bowstring. Just then, everything goes black.
Opening my eyes, I'm immediately hit with the smell of dust and ash, the acrid taste of it thick on my tongue as I blink away the haze clouding my vision. The world around me is a landscape of fallen rubble and debris, a chaotic mess of stone and metal that used to be something—walls, maybe, or part of the gala hall. I try to piece it together, but everything is fragmented like my mind is struggling to catch up with the destruction surrounding me. It takes me a second to shake off the disorienting daze as I push myself to my feet, every muscle screaming in protest from the impact. My ribs ache with deep, throbbing pain, and my legs feel unsteady beneath me, but I force myself to stand. The air is thick with smoke, dust swirling around me in an unsettling dance, and the faint orange glow of fires burning in the distance casts eerie shadows across the ruins. My ears are ringing, the high-pitched sound cutting through the fog in my head, and for a moment, it's the only thing I can focus on, drowning out the chaos that surrounds me. The sound of destruction is muffled and distant like I'm hearing everything through a layer of cotton. Slowly, the world comes back into sharper focus—shouts of panic, the crackling of flames, and the unmistakable hum of energy weapons firing in the distance. I blink again, trying to shake the dizziness, my vision finally clearing enough to take in the full scope of the devastation. The council building, once a symbol of strength and unity, now lies in ruins, a shattered husk of twisted metal and stone.
"Over here! I found him!" A familiar voice calls out from above me, cutting through the ringing in my ears. It's Tony, hovering in the sky in his Iron Man armor, his repulsors glowing brightly as he scans the wreckage below. Relief washes over me, but it's short-lived as I realize the full gravity of the situation. Before I can fully process it, the Avengers and X-Men converge on my location, their faces tight with worry and focus. Wanda is the first to reach me, her scarlet energy flickering at her fingertips as she rushes forward, engulfing me in a tight hug. The warmth of her embrace steadies me, her presence grounding me in the middle of this madness. For a brief moment, everything else fades, and it's just the two of us, her heartbeat against mine, her breath uneven in my ear. I pull back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, searching for answers, for reassurance. "What hit us?" The question tumbles out before I can stop it, my mind racing to fill in the blanks. I glance around at the devastation, trying to piece together how we went from a gala to this in the blink of an eye. Wanda's face is tense, her brow furrowed in a way that tells me she's just as shaken. "Ultron," she breathes out, her voice thick with worry, "The rogue AI reactivated a Behemoth Sentinel and deployed it in the middle of Genosha. It's attacking everything in sight."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Ultron. Of course. The name alone sends a surge of anger and dread coursing through me. My jaw tightens, fists clenching involuntarily at my sides. "Where is it now?" I demand, my voice low, already thinking ahead to the battle that's clearly unfolding beyond the wreckage. "Magneto and his forces are already engaging it in battle as we speak," Wanda answers, her grip on my arm tightening as if she knows the storm that's brewing inside me. Her words sink in, and I can feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me. A Behemoth Sentinel. It's more than just a machine—it's a weapon of mass destruction, capable of leveling entire cities. And now it's loose in Genosha. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm, to push aside the rage that threatens to bubble over. I glance at Tony, who's still hovering nearby, his helmet retracting to reveal his grim expression.
[Genosha]
The ground beneath my feet trembles violently as the Behemoth Sentinel slams its massive foot into the earth, sending shockwaves rippling through the rubble-strewn streets of Genosha. The sheer force of the impact nearly knocks me off balance, and I have to brace myself, muscles tensing as the quake rumbles through the already devastated city. Dust and debris rise in thick clouds, choking the air, making it hard to breathe as the monstrous machine's red eyes blaze like molten fire, scanning the battlefield with eerie, lifeless precision. It feels like the very air is charged with its destructive intent, the hum of its power thrumming in my bones, a reminder of just how outmatched we are. Every step it takes crushes whatever remains of the once-thriving city under its feet, the mechanical joints of its enormous limbs groaning as if the island itself is buckling beneath its weight. I can barely comprehend the size of it as I stare up at the colossal mech, its hulking frame towering above us like a god of destruction sent to erase everything in its path. It's a nightmarish amalgamation of metal and wires, a grotesque fusion of advanced tech and cold, brutal efficiency. Standing 41 meters tall, its body looks like an armored tank from hell, designed with nothing but annihilation in mind. Its eight legs move with terrifying speed and precision for something so large, each one smashing through buildings and structures like they're made of paper. The ground buckles beneath the weight of every step crack, spiderwebbing out from the impact points, swallowing chunks of debris as the earth groans under strain.
The Behemoth Sentinel is a walking fortress, a weapon of mass destruction with an intelligence so cold and calculating that it feels like the very concept of life means nothing to it. The eight massive legs propel it forward, and for a brief moment, I swear it moves faster than it should for something its size, almost as if it's adapting to the battle unfolding around it. I watch in horror as it lets out a mechanical roar—an awful, grinding sound that reverberates across the island, shaking everything to its core. The noise is deafening, drowning out the sounds of battle, and I feel it reverberate deep in my chest like a low, persistent rumble. It's as if the machine itself is announcing its dominance over the battlefield, an unholy scream of raw, unchecked power. The Sentinel's red, glowing eyes scan the landscape with a terrifying sense of purpose. There's no hesitation in its movements, no second-guessing, no pause for consideration—it knows exactly what it's here to do: destroy. I can feel the heat radiating from it even from where I stand, the sheer energy pouring off its massive frame like the relentless glow of molten metal. Its gaze sweeps across the battlefield, calculating, targeting, and I know that it's searching for us—for any sign of resistance. I know that its next target could be any of us at any moment. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. We're not just up against a machine; we're up against a machine with the mind of a strategist. Every movement it makes is precise, deliberate, and devastating.
I catch sight of Magneto in the distance, hovering above the ruins, his magnetic field shimmering around him as he manipulates the metal debris scattered around the battlefield, hurling chunks of twisted steel at the Sentinel in a desperate attempt to slow it down. But it's no use. The metal barely makes a dent against the machine's thick, reinforced armor. The pieces of debris bounce off its towering form like pebbles against a mountain. The Sentinel hardly seems to notice, continuing its rampage with an unrelenting focus, its legs crushing everything in its path as it moves forward, seemingly impervious to anything we've thrown at it so far. I grit my teeth, anger bubbling up inside me, but I push it down, force it back. Now's not the time to lose control. I glance over at Wanda, her hands glowing with scarlet energy as she prepares another wave of magic to hurl at the monstrous machine. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. My mind races, calculating, analyzing every weak point I can see on the Sentinel's massive frame, but it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Its armor is too thick and too well-designed, and every part of it screams death and destruction. We need to find a way to bring this thing down. But with each second that passes, the odds seem to tip further against us.
Just then, the Behemoth shifts its attention, its glowing red eyes locking onto a group of mutants trying to evacuate the area. The sight of them—some barely teenagers, others parents holding their children close—sends a cold dread down my spine. It's like watching a nightmare unfold in slow motion. My heart lurches in my chest, the world narrowing to that single moment as the massive machine rears back, its grotesque legs curling beneath it like a predator about to pounce. I can see it all too clearly—the way its limbs will come crashing down, the devastation that will follow, the lives that will be snuffed out in an instant. I feel the weight of that impending doom pressing down on me like a leaden hand, and without thinking, I move. "No!" I shout, my voice hoarse, barely carrying over the sounds of destruction and chaos. My legs are moving before my mind can catch up, muscles coiling with every step as I sprint toward them, desperate to close the impossible distance. It's like trying to outrun a tidal wave. Every instinct screams at me to act, to stop the Sentinel before it's too late, but deep down, I know I'm too far away. My heart pounds in my ears, my breath coming in ragged gasps, but the realization claws at me—there's no way I'll reach them in time. The Behemoth's leg lifts higher, casting a long shadow over the group of terrified mutants. My mind races, calculating every possible move, every potential plan, but nothing fits. Nothing works. I push myself harder, the burning in my lungs intensifying, but it feels like running through quicksand. I've faced impossible odds before, stared death in the face more times than I can count, but this… this is different. This is my worst fear made real: the helplessness of knowing I'm too late. A sickening feeling coils in my gut, but I don't stop. I can't stop. Every fiber of my being screams at me to keep going, to do something—anything—to save them.
And then, just as the Behemoth's leg starts to descend, I see a flash of movement. Jericho. He blurs past me, faster than I can react, his form nothing more than a streak of crimson and shadow. My breath catches in my throat as I skid to a halt, eyes wide with shock. It's like watching a reflection of myself, a version of me infused with Wanda's magic and my own strength, moving with a grace and power that's both familiar and otherworldly. His presence is electric, crackling with the combined energy of his inherited abilities. The air around him hums with the raw potential that Wanda and I have passed down to him. Without missing a beat, Jericho raises his hands, and a shimmering scarlet barrier forms in an instant, expanding outward like a dome around the group of innocent mutants. The protective field crackles with energy, flickering with the dual power of his lineage—Wanda's chaos magic and my hardened will. It's not just a shield; it's an extension of his very being, a manifestation of his need to protect, to save the ones who can't save themselves. The Behemoth's leg slams down with the force of a meteor, the impact so strong I can feel the ground shudder beneath my feet. But Jericho's barrier holds. The Sentinel's strike hits with a deafening crash, but instead of crushing the mutants beneath, it rebounds off the shimmering shield, a wave of scarlet energy rippling out from the point of contact.
For a moment, I just stand there, frozen, watching in awe as my son—my son from the future—deflects the attack with a power that rivals my own, if not surpasses it. His face is set in grim determination, his jaw clenched, sweat beading on his forehead as he holds the barrier firm, refusing to let it falter. The sight of him standing there, protecting those people with everything he has, sends a wave of pride and emotion crashing over me, nearly knocking me off balance. He's strong. Stronger than I ever imagined. And in that moment, I realized just how much he's inherited from us, not just our powers but our resolve. Our will to fight, to protect. I rush forward again, but this time, it's not out of desperation. It's with renewed purpose that my mind is clearer and sharper. Jericho's holding the line, but I know he can't do it alone. The Behemoth is relentless, already pulling back for another strike, and we need to take it down before it adapts to Jericho's shield. My son may be powerful, but this fight is far from over. As I approach the barrier, Jericho glances over his shoulder, our eyes meeting for a brief second. There's no need for words. We understand each other completely, a silent agreement passing between us. Together, we'll face this. Together, we'll win.
[Steve Rogers POV]
Tightening my grip on my shield, me and Psylocke, along with the rest of the team, rush over to Spartan and Jericho's to face down the Behemoth Sentinel. "Here we go," I mutter under my breath, knowing full well that this fight could be one of the toughest we've ever faced. "Everyone ready?" I shout over the rising wind and the hum of the Behemoth's systems. Spartan gives me a curt nod, his visor flickering with data as he assesses the situation. Wanda stands beside him, her hands glowing with swirling scarlet energy, her expression fierce. Jericho, Spartan, and Wanda's son is already bracing himself for the next attack, his own crimson energy crackling around him, ready to shield those who can't protect themselves. Magneto hovers slightly off the ground, metal debris swirling around him like a storm, his eyes locked on the Sentinel as if daring it to make a move. "Ready as we'll ever be," Tony's voice crackles in my earpiece. He's already in the air, his repulsors glowing as he hovers at eye level with the Behemoth, scanning for weak points. War Machine flies up beside him, his armor bristling with enough firepower to take on a small army. Falcon is circling high above, wings spread wide as he watches for any aerial threat, while Hawkeye is perched on a nearby ledge, arrow already notched, his sharp eyes scanning for a target. Black Widow is close to him, her body tense, every muscle coiled and ready for whatever comes next.
"Take that thing down!" I bark, sprinting forward. Psylocke is right beside me, her psychic blade igniting with a flare of violet energy as she charges in. The ground is a blur beneath me, but all I can focus on is the Sentinel, this towering machine that's moving with deadly intent. It doesn't hesitate—one of its massive legs lifts and crashes down, sending a shockwave through the ground that nearly throws me off my feet. I grit my teeth and push forward, leaping into the air just as the Behemoth's leg slams down behind me, the impact sending chunks of earth and concrete flying. Tony and War Machine are the first to strike. "Focus fire!" Tony shouts, unleashing a barrage of repulsor blasts that light up the night like a hundred miniature suns. War Machine follows up with a volley of rockets, the explosions thundering across the battlefield. The blasts hit the Behemoth's thick armor with a deafening crash, but the machine hardly flinches, its self-repair systems already working to seal the damage. "Keep hitting it!" I shout as I launch my shield at one of the Sentinel's joints. The vibranium disc strikes with a sharp clang, but the machine's leg is already repairing itself, the metal bending and warping back into place. "It's healing too fast!" I grit my teeth, catching my shield as it returns to my hand. We need to slow it down. We need a way to stop its regeneration long enough to do some real damage.
Wanda takes a step forward, her eyes glowing red as she lifts her hands. "I can disrupt its self-repair systems," she calls out, her voice steady but strained with concentration. Her energy flares to life, swirling and crackling with chaotic power, "But I'll need cover!" "I've got you," Spartan responds immediately, moving to her side, his own weapons drawn. He gives her a brief nod, and then the two of them move as one, Wanda's energy crackling through the air as she starts weaving a spell designed to disrupt the Sentinel's regeneration. Jericho follows close behind them, his own hands glowing with the same scarlet energy. "I can amplify her magic," he says, his voice tight with focus, "But we need to keep it distracted!"
"On it!" Cyclops shouts, his visor flaring red as he unleashes a powerful optic blast straight at the Sentinel's chest. The blast hits dead center, and for a brief moment, the Sentinel staggers, its systems flickering as the energy surges through it. Jean is beside him, her hands raised as she focuses her telekinesis, gripping one of the Sentinel's legs and pulling it off balance. It lets out a screech of grinding metal as it topples slightly to the side, but its other legs brace, stabilizing it before it can fall. Rogue and Gambit take their opening. Rogue rockets into the air, her strength amplified as she slams into the side of the Sentinel with enough force to leave a dent in its armor. Gambit follows up with a series of charged cards, each one exploding against the machine's frame, sending sparks flying. But the damage is minimal, and the Sentinel's self-repair systems kick in almost immediately, the dents smoothing out as the metal reshapes itself.
"Jean, can you hold it down?" I shout, glancing over at her as she strains to maintain her grip on the machine. "I can try!" Jean replies, her voice tight with effort. Her telekinetic grip tightens, and for a moment, the Sentinel's movements slow, its legs struggling against the invisible force holding it in place. "Wolverine, now!" I call out, and Logan is already moving. With a feral growl, he leaps onto the Behemoth's back, his claws extending with a snikt as he starts tearing into its armor. Metal screeches as he rips into it, his claws flashing in the dim light as he cuts through layers of steel and circuitry. But even as he digs deeper, the machine's self-repair systems fight back, the metal knitting itself together almost as fast as he can tear it apart. "Damn thing's tough!" Logan growls, but he doesn't stop. He keeps slashing, keeps tearing, determined to find a way to disable it. Storm joins the fray, her eyes glowing white as she summons a tempest overhead. Dark clouds gather, swirling ominously as the wind picks up, and a bolt of lightning cracks through the air, striking the Sentinel's exposed back. The blast of electricity surges through its systems, causing the machine to shudder violently, but it's not enough to bring it down. "We need to hit it harder!" I shout, frustration gnawing at me as the Sentinel continues to fight back. The battle feels like a stalemate—every hit we land is undone by its self-repair systems, and every moment we delay gives it more time to adapt.
"We have to take out its power source!" Tony's voice crackles over the comms, and I follow his gaze to a glowing core embedded deep in the Sentinel's chest, "That's where it's drawing its energy from! If we can disable that, it won't be able to heal!" "That's our target!" I shout to the others, my heart racing as the plan starts to come together, "We need to get to that core!" "I can get you there!" Magneto's voice cuts through the chaos, and I turn to see him hovering above the battlefield, his eyes glowing with raw power. He reaches out with his hands, and the metal debris scattered across the ground begins to swirl around him, forming a makeshift bridge leading up to the Sentinel's chest, "Go!" Without hesitation, I leap onto the metal platform, sprinting up toward the Behemoth's core with Cyclops, Jean, and Rogue right behind me. Magneto holds the platform steady, his magnetic field crackling with energy as he pushes it closer to the Sentinel's chest. The machine's red eyes lock onto us, and it lets out another mechanical roar, its massive arms swinging toward us with terrifying speed. "Incoming!" I shout, diving to the side as one of its arms sweeps across the platform, narrowly missing me. Cyclops fires another optic blast, hitting the arm and forcing it back, but the Sentinel is relentless, its other arm already swinging toward us.
"Jean, can you—?" I start, but she's already moving, her telekinesis flaring to life as she pushes the arm away, giving us just enough time to reach the core. "We're running out of time!" Tony's voice crackles in my ear, and I glance down to see the others still fighting to keep the Sentinel distracted. Wanda and Jericho are working in tandem, their combined powers holding the machine's self-repair systems at bay, but I can see the strain on their faces. They can't keep this up forever. "Get to the core!" I shout, charging forward with my shield raised. Rogue rockets past me, slamming into the Sentinel's chest with enough force to crack the armor around the core, "Now!" Cyclops fires another blast, this one hitting the core dead center. The Sentinel lets out a deafening screech, its systems flickering as the blast overloads its circuits. The core begins to glow brighter, pulsing with unstable energy as it struggles to contain the damage. "Jean, we need to contain it!" I shout, and she nods, her hands glowing as she reaches out with her telekinesis, forming a barrier around the core. The energy inside surges violently, but Jean's power holds it in place, keeping it from exploding. "Now, hit it with everything we've got!" I yell, my heart pounding in my chest as I prepare to make the final strike. And we do.
The moment I shout the command, everything falls into place. The battlefield becomes a symphony of action, each of us moving with a single-minded focus that's as sharp and precise as a blade. My shield is already in motion, spinning through the air like a silver blur, heading straight for the Sentinel's core. It's the first strike—a signal for the others to follow. The vibranium hums as it slices through the thick air, a solid, unyielding force aimed directly at the one weak spot we've managed to expose. The second it leaves my hand, I know I've started something that will either end this fight or leave us scrambling in the rubble. And there's no turning back now. Behind me, I can hear Tony's repulsors roar to life as he unleashes a barrage of energy blasts, the bright blue beams lancing through the air, converging on the core. His aim is sharp, precise—every blast striking the glowing power source with pinpoint accuracy. War Machine joins in seconds later, his shoulder-mounted cannons unleashing a hailstorm of missiles, each one trailing smoke as they scream toward the Sentinel, adding to the cacophony of destruction. The explosions light up the night like fireworks, sending shockwaves through the air that rattle my bones, but I don't stop. I can't. I sprint forward, closing the distance between myself and the Sentinel as fast as my legs will carry me, my eyes locked on the core as it begins to pulse wildly, its energy destabilizing under the relentless assault.
The others aren't far behind. Cyclops is already in position, his visor flaring to life with a brilliant red glow. "Firing!" he shouts, and the optic beam follows the path of my shield, striking the core with such force that the ground beneath us trembles. It's a concentrated blast, the kind he usually reserves for when things are at their worst. Right now, they are. The sheer power of the beam slams into the core, causing it to pulse even brighter, flickering violently as it struggles to hold itself together under the combined assault. Jean is right beside him, her face tight with concentration, hands raised as she adds her telekinetic strength to the attack. She doesn't use raw power like Cyclops, but her control is flawless. I can feel the invisible force she's directing, manipulating the very air around the core, holding it in place, keeping it from healing itself, from escaping. She's locking it down, preventing the machine from repairing the damage we're causing, and it's working for now.
From above, Storm calls down a bolt of lightning, the flash of white-hot energy blinding in its intensity as it arcs through the dark sky and slams into the Sentinel's back. The crackling electricity surges through the machine's systems, short-circuiting whatever it touches, causing its movements to stutter just for a second. It's enough. Falcon swoops down from the clouds, wings spread wide as he drops a barrage of explosives right into the weakened armor around the core. They go off in a series of rapid-fire blasts, tearing away more of the protective metal and leaving the core fully exposed.
And then there's Wanda. I can feel her energy before I even see her, the raw, unfiltered chaos magic crackling in the air around us, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Her eyes are glowing a deep, rich scarlet, her hands swirling with power as she raises them toward the core. "Now!" she yells, her voice a mixture of command and desperation. She's giving everything she has to this moment, channeling all her energy into a single, concentrated attack. The blast of red energy that erupts from her is unlike anything I've ever seen—wild, untamed, and utterly destructive. It tears through the air, a violent surge of power that hits the core with the force of a hurricane. The Sentinel lets out a metallic screech, its systems going haywire as the magic floods through it, destabilizing everything. The core pulses brighter, flickering madly as it begins to overload. Jericho is right there with her, his own energy mirroring hers, amplifying it. His scarlet magic intertwines with Wanda's, forming a concentrated beam of raw power that slams into the core, forcing it to flicker and dim, its glow starting to falter. I can feel the heat from their combined power, the sheer force of it pushing against me, and I know—this is it. We've broken through.
Hawkeye, from his perch, takes the shot he's been waiting for. His arrow streaks through the chaos, finding its mark with unerring precision. It strikes the core dead center, and the explosion of energy that follows sends shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. The core begins to collapse in on itself, its energy spiraling out of control. I see my shield ricochet off the core, spinning back toward me, and I catch it without missing a beat, my eyes still locked on the Behemoth Sentinel as it stumbles, its systems failing one by one. Its legs buckle under the strain, and for a brief, glorious moment, I think we've done it. We've won. But then the machine lets out a low, grinding hum, and I realize with a sickening dread that it's not over yet. The core is still glowing, dim but not dead, and the Sentinel's self-repair systems are already kicking in, the metal around the core starting to knit itself back together.
"Dammit," I growl under my breath, tightening my grip on my shield as I prepare for whatever comes next. We've hit it with everything we have, but it's not enough. Not yet. The Behemoth isn't down—not completely—and I know we won't get another chance like this if we don't finish the job. "Keep hitting it!" I shout, my voice raw with determination, "Don't let up!" Tony's already moving, his repulsors flaring as he dives down toward the core for a final strike. War Machine follows, his cannons roaring to life as he unleashes another barrage of missiles. Cyclops fires again, his optic blast burning bright as it strikes the core once more. And then I throw my shield, putting everything I have into that final toss. The vibranium disc spins through the air, cutting through the smoke and chaos, leading the charge. We're not done yet. We won't be done until that thing is on the ground, dead and buried.
In the distance, I catch sight of Karai, and even amidst the chaos, I can't help but smirk at what I see. She's crouched down, perched on top of a broken chunk of debris that used to be part of the council building, her fingers deftly working over the controls of a weapon that looks like it belongs on a battlefield far beyond anything we've seen tonight. It's not just a sniper rifle—it's a rail cannon, a monstrosity of a weapon that hums with power, the sheer size of it making her look smaller in comparison. But I know Karai well enough to know that she's more than capable of handling it. In fact, she thrives on this kind of thing. The energy pulsing through that cannon is like an extension of her; the raw destructive force she's about to unleash is nothing short of a game-changer. I see her grin, wild and fierce, the adrenaline clearly kicking in as she lines up her shot. Her fingers are steady, her movements precise, and even from here, I can hear the gleam of excitement in her voice. "Bitches love cannons!" she yells over the chaos, her words cutting through the air like a rallying cry. There's something almost electric in the way she says it, a mix of humor and battle-ready intensity that somehow eases the tension pounding in my chest. Karai's always had a way of turning the heat of battle into something almost exhilarating, something to embrace rather than fear. And right now, we need every ounce of that energy.
I don't have time to marvel at the cannon itself—because the second she fires, the blast that follows is deafening. It's not just loud; it's a bone-shaking, earth-splitting roar that seems to suck the air out of the battlefield before exploding forward in a violent surge of light and energy. The sheer force of it staggers me, even from my distance, and I feel the ground beneath me tremble as the beam hurtles toward the Behemoth Sentinel. The projectile is a streak of burning, radiant power, crackling with an energy so intense it leaves a scorched trail in the air behind it. The rail cannon's blast slams into the exposed core with the force of a meteor, and for a moment, everything seems to stop. The impact is cataclysmic. The core, already flickering and unstable, flares violently, the energy inside it erupting in a cascade of sparks and arcs of electricity that race along the surface of the Behemoth's armored body. The shockwave from the blast ripples outward, throwing chunks of debris in every direction, and I have to raise my shield just in time to block a piece of metal from slamming into me.
The Sentinel staggers back, its massive legs faltering under the force of the hit. The ground shakes beneath its weight, and for a split second, I think we might have done it—that Karai's shot might be the thing that finally brings this monster down. The core itself is practically exposed now, the armor around it shattered, leaving it vulnerable to further strikes. But then, just as quickly as that hope rises, it begins to flicker, the self-repair systems already kicking into overdrive. I can see the fragments of its armor pulling back together, welding themselves in place with an almost organic fluidity, and the core, though severely damaged, starts to pulse once more—dim but not destroyed. My chest tightens with frustration as I watch the Behemoth start to stabilize itself, its massive form still looming over us like an unstoppable force. We've hit it with everything we've got, and yet it keeps coming. Every step it takes feels like a reminder of just how dangerous and relentless this thing is, a weapon designed not just to destroy but to adapt and endure. The battlefield is a graveyard of destruction, the once-thriving city now a wasteland of crumbling buildings and smoldering debris, and still, the Behemoth stands.
Karai's shot did its job—there's no doubt about that. The Sentinel is severely weakened, its systems overloaded and faltering, but it's not enough. Not yet. I can see Karai in the distance, already reloading the cannon, her face set with fierce determination, but even she knows that shot wasn't the kill shot we need. The Behemoth's core is damaged, but it's still holding on by a thread, still glowing with that ominous, pulsing energy that promises more destruction if we don't stop it soon. "Nice shot, Karai!" I shout, my voice hoarse but full of genuine admiration. I know she can't hear me over the sounds of battle, but it doesn't matter. She knows. She always knows. But now, we have to finish this. My shield's back in my hand, and I can feel the weight of the battle pressing down on my shoulders like a physical force, but I push it aside. There's no room for doubt. No room for hesitation. We have to bring this thing down.
I glance around at the others—Tony, War Machine, Falcon, Wanda, Jericho, all of them locked in this relentless struggle to hold the line against a machine that refuses to die. Cyclops and Jean are already regrouping, their powers at the ready, and Wolverine, ever the stubborn fighter, is lunging toward the Sentinel's legs, claws out, trying to sever the joints. The rest of the X-Men are rallying, their resolve as fierce as ever. We're all battered, bruised, and exhausted, but none of us are backing down. I grit my teeth, feeling the familiar rush of determination surge through me as I lock my gaze on the core once more. "Everyone, hit it again! Focus on the core!" I bellow, my voice cutting through the chaos like a war cry. We've come too far to let this thing get back up. If we don't take it down now, it'll be the end of us—and Genosha.
Suddenly, in the midst of the chaos, as the Behemoth Sentinel's core flickers dangerously but still holds on, an idea slams into me like a freight train. It's reckless, bold, and maybe even a little insane—but if it works, it could be the key to ending this fight once and for all. My mind races through every possibility, every scenario we've already tried, and none of them have done more than chip away at this thing's armor, at its monstrous power. It regenerates too quickly, its systems repairing almost as fast as we can damage it. But there's something about Gambit's powers, about the sheer explosive energy he's capable of unleashing, that sticks in my head like a stubborn thought. His power to charge objects with kinetic energy is raw and unstable—an untapped force that could be the final blow we need. And it's not just a simple blast or long-range strike like the others. Gambit's ability works best when he's up close and personal, when he can physically touch the object he wants to turn into a weapon. The key to destroying this monstrosity lies in getting him close enough to charge the core directly. The only problem is... that's a suicide run if we're not careful. I glance over at Gambit, who's weaving through the battlefield with that signature reckless grace of his, his staff twirling in his hands as he deflects attacks and flings charged playing cards at the smaller drones that are still harrying us like gnats. His face is a mix of concentration and thrill, the chaos of battle only fueling the adrenaline that clearly courses through his veins. But I know Gambit, and I know that behind the swagger and the charm, he's always looking for that moment to strike, that perfect opportunity to turn the tide. And I've just found it for him.
My heart thuds in my chest as I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what I'm about to propose. The ground shakes again as the Behemoth takes another massive step forward, its hulking frame casting an ominous shadow over us. Time feels like it slows as I bolt toward Gambit, dodging falling debris and sidestepping blasts from the Behemoth's relentless assault. Every instinct I have screams at me to keep fighting from a distance, to play it safe, but I shove those thoughts down. We don't have time for hesitation. "Gambit!" I call out, my voice cutting through the chaos. He whips his head around, eyes flashing with recognition as I approach, "I've got an idea—one that might actually take this thing down!" He stops mid-movement, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his expression curious but alert. "Well, Cap," he drawls in that thick Cajun accent of his, "You got a plan, I'm all ears. This thing don't look like it's goin' down easy, though." I nod, feeling the weight of what I'm about to ask settle in my chest. "It's not. But I think you can destroy it," I gesture toward the Behemoth, its massive legs still stomping through the battlefield as it fends off the relentless assaults from the Avengers and the X-Men, "Your powers—you can charge anything, right? Objects, weapons… even that core. But you'd need to get close."
Gambit's expression shifts, his easygoing smile fading as he glances at the Behemoth, then back at me. There's a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, and I can't blame him. Charging something as large and as volatile as the core of a Behemoth Sentinel is beyond anything he's ever tried before. Hell, it's beyond anything any of us have tried. But we're out of options. And if anyone can pull off the impossible, it's Gambit. "You want me to touch that thing?" he asks, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the seriousness of the situation, "You really think I can charge up somethin' that big without blowin' myself up, mon ami?" "It's risky," I admit, my voice steady, "But if we can get you close enough to the core, I think you can overload it. You've taken down massive enemies before, but this… this is different. If you hit the core with everything you've got, it might be enough to trigger a chain reaction that could destroy the entire Sentinel." Gambit takes a moment, his sharp eyes flicking from me to the towering Behemoth, which is still thrashing against the combined assaults of our team. It lets out another mechanical roar, its red eyes scanning the battlefield like a predator. I know it's a long shot, but I can see the wheels turning in his mind, the calculations he's making. He knows the risks just as well as I do. Getting that close means putting himself in the crosshairs of the most dangerous weapon we've ever faced. But then something shifts in Gambit's expression—determination. The kind of determination that says he's not going to back down, no matter how impossible the odds seem.
"Alright, Cap," he says, twirling his staff in a quick, fluid motion before planting it firmly at his side, "You get me close to that thing, and I'll light it up. But don't expect me to stick around for the fireworks." I nod, my heart pounding in my chest, knowing this plan could either save us all or end in disaster. "I'll cover you," I promise, turning to signal the others, "We'll draw its fire, give you the window you need. Once you're in, hit the core with everything you've got." Without waiting for a response, I shout orders to the rest of the team, "Tony, Rhodey, Falcon! We need to create a diversion—hit the Behemoth hard from the sides! Gambit's going in for the core, but he needs an opening!" Tony's voice crackles through the comms as he zips overhead, firing off a barrage of repulsor blasts at the Behemoth's armored joints, "Got it, Cap! You better have a damn good plan, because this thing isn't going down!" "Trust me, I've got one," I reply, feeling the weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders, "Just keep it busy." As Tony, Rhodey, and Falcon launch their aerial assault, I turn back to Gambit, who's already crouching low, preparing to make his move. He gives me a quick nod, that familiar smirk back on his face, "Let's see if this ol' Cajun can give that big boy a charge it'll never forget."
With that, he bolts forward, moving faster than I've ever seen him move before, weaving through the chaos with the grace of a dancer. My eyes stay locked on him, tracking his every move as I follow closely behind, my shield raised to deflect any stray blasts from the Behemoth's defense systems. It's still focused on Tony and the others, its massive cannons swiveling to track the aerial assault, but I know it won't take long for it to realize what we're up to. We just need to be faster. The ground shakes beneath our feet as Gambit, and I close the distance, the Sentinel's shadow looming larger with every step. My heart hammers in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins as the reality of what we're doing sinks in. We're going straight for the heart of the beast, and there's no turning back now. Gambit's hands glow with that familiar, pulsating energy, the power building up inside him as he prepares to unleash it all in one massive, devastating blow. "Almost there," I shout over the roar of the battle, my shield deflecting a blast that nearly takes us out, "Keep moving!" The Behemoth finally seems to sense the threat, its red eyes locking onto us with terrifying precision. It lets out another ear-splitting roar, its massive frame turning toward us as it prepares to fire. But we're too close now, too fast. Gambit's already in motion, his body a blur of kinetic energy as he leaps toward the exposed core, his hand outstretched, ready to deliver the charge.
Time seems to slow as Gambit's fingers make contact with the core, the energy transferring from him to the machine in a blinding flash of light, "The name's Gambit. Remember it." For a split second, everything is silent. The battlefield stills, the roar of the Behemoth cut off in an instant as if the entire world is holding its breath. And then, all hell breaks loose. The core explodes in a brilliant, violent eruption of energy, the shockwave ripping through the air with enough force to send me flying backward. I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs, but I manage to roll to my feet, my eyes immediately searching for Gambit. The Behemoth is thrashing, its entire body shaking as the overload spreads through its systems, arcs of electricity sparking across its massive frame. The self-repair systems are struggling to keep up, but I can see the damage—deep, critical damage that even this monstrous machine can't recover from. Gambit staggers back, his hand smoking from the sheer force of the charge he just unleashed. He's panting, clearly exhausted but alive. He did it.
The Behemoth lets out one final, deafening roar as the core implodes, the energy collapsing in on itself in a massive burst of light. The shockwave ripples out, and for a moment, it feels like the entire battlefield is being swallowed by the explosion. But then, just as quickly, the light fades, and the Behemoth crumples to the ground, its massive frame collapsing in on itself with a thunderous crash. It's over. I take a deep breath, my chest heaving as I survey the destruction. The Behemoth Sentinel lies in ruins, its once-imposing form now nothing more than a smoldering wreck. The battlefield is eerily quiet, the echoes of the explosion still ringing in my ears. Gambit stumbles toward me, a tired grin on his face as he wipes the sweat from his brow. "Well, Cap," he says, his voice hoarse but full of satisfaction, "I think that did the trick." I nod, clapping him on the shoulder. "You did it, Gambit. You saved us all." As the others begin to gather around, I can't help but feel a surge of relief wash over me. We fought, we bled, and we nearly lost everything—but in the end, we won. The Behemoth is destroyed, and Genosha is safe.
[Safe Zone, Genosha]
The aftermath of the battle still hangs heavy in the air as we make our way to the safe zone, where the survivors from the city have gathered. The sounds of combat have faded, replaced by the quiet murmur of voices, the rustling of emergency personnel tending to the wounded, and the low hum of vehicles arriving to assist the displaced. It's a stark contrast to the chaos we just fought through. The safe zone feels eerily calm, but there's an underlying tension—grief, fear, and uncertainty—that lingers in the air like a weight pressing down on everyone. As we approach, I can see groups of people huddled together—families, children, the elderly—many of them wrapped in blankets handed out by emergency workers. Their faces are pale, eyes hollow with shock, and I can't help but feel the gnawing weight of responsibility settle in my chest. These are the people we fought for, the lives we tried to save. But looking at them now, their expressions filled with fear and confusion, I know we couldn't save them all. No matter how hard we fought, no matter how many of us stood our ground, the Behemoth Sentinel still took too much. Too many. I catch sight of Magneto standing at the edge of the crowd, his presence commanding as always, but there's something different about him now. He looks older and wearier like the weight of this tragedy has finally managed to crack through that impenetrable armor of his. Emma Frost stands beside him, her arms crossed, her usually cool demeanor softened by the grief etched into her face. Even in a place like this, she carries herself with an air of grace and authority, but I can see the strain in her posture and the heaviness in her gaze as she looks out over the crowd.
"How many were lost?" Magneto asks, his voice low but filled with an undeniable sense of dread. His eyes are fixed on Emma, but I can tell from the way his shoulders tense that he already knows the answer. He just doesn't want to hear it. Emma lets out a long, slow sigh before speaking, her words heavy with sorrow. "20,000," she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "Not counting the missing." The number hits me like a punch to the gut. 20,000 lives. My breath catches in my throat as the gravity of it sinks in. I can hear the murmurs of those around me, the quiet conversations of the people who survived, and it feels like the world has slowed down to a crawl. 20,000. It echoes in my mind, over and over, like a drumbeat I can't escape. Magneto clenches his fists at his sides, his jaw tight, his eyes hard. I can see the storm brewing behind them, the familiar fire of anger that I've seen too many times before. But this time, there's something more—a flicker of guilt, of shame. He built this place, this sanctuary for mutants, and now, after all his efforts, his dream lies in ruins. The people he swore to protect have paid the price for it.
I step closer, standing beside him, the weight of everything pressing down on my shoulders just as heavily as it does on his. "We did everything we could," I say, though the words feel hollow, inadequate. What can I possibly say to someone who just lost thousands of his people? What can I say to make any of this better? Magneto's gaze shifts to me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods slowly. "Perhaps," he mutters, his voice strained, "But it wasn't enough." I glance around at the others—at Tony, who's leaning against a damaged truck, his armor still smoking from the battle; at Wanda, who stands nearby, her arms wrapped around herself as she stares blankly at the ground; at Rogue and Cyclops, who are quietly talking with a group of injured civilians. Each of them bears the same weight and the same look of exhaustion and loss. Even the X-Men, who are used to facing impossible odds, seem shaken. Wanda meets my eyes for a brief moment, and I can see the pain there, the guilt she's carrying. She blames herself for not being able to stop it sooner, for not sensing Ultron's presence before the Behemoth struck. I take a step toward her, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She doesn't say anything, but she leans into my touch, her body trembling slightly. I want to tell her it's not her fault, that none of this is on her, but I know the words won't help. Not right now.
In the distance, I hear the faint sound of sirens approaching—more emergency teams, more supplies. But as I look around at the devastation, I wonder if it'll ever be enough to heal the wounds left by this attack. The people here may have survived, but their lives will never be the same. Genosha will never be the same. Emma steps forward, her voice breaking the silence. "We'll need to begin a full search and rescue operation," she says, her tone all business now, though the sadness lingers just beneath the surface, "There are still people trapped in the rubble. And the missing…" She trails off, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.
Magneto doesn't respond right away. Instead, he looks out over the horizon, at the smoke still rising from the ruins of the city. For a long moment, he just stands there, silent, his mind clearly racing with a thousand thoughts. Finally, he turns back to Emma, his expression hardening with resolve. "Find them," he says, his voice steady but laced with pain, "Find them all. Dead or alive." I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle in the pit of my stomach. There's no going back from this. The damage has been done, and now all that's left is to pick up the pieces. I glance over at Tony, who's talking quietly with War Machine and Falcon, their faces grim as they discuss the logistics of what comes next. We're all soldiers in this moment—there's no time for grief, not yet. There's too much work to be done. Too many lives are still hanging in the balance.
Karai approaches from the side, her sniper rifle slung over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. "What's the next move, Cap?" she asks, her voice steady but tense. I take a deep breath, trying to focus, to push aside the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. "We stabilize the area," I say, my voice firm, "Search for survivors and help the wounded." Karai nods, her eyes flicking over to Magneto, who stands like a statue, his gaze fixed on the city's ruins. As I turn to give orders to the rest of the team, I can't shake the feeling of dread gnawing at the back of my mind. This isn't over. Ultron's attack on Genosha is just the beginning, and I know deep down that the road ahead is going to be long and filled with more battles and more losses. But for now, all we can do is pick up the pieces and prepare for what's coming next.