| |
"Derek rose through the ranks faster than we could've anticipated. It wasn’t long before he was second only to Lieutenant William Hurley and Paul Logan, the men in charge of overseeing nearly all of the facility and its inmates. While Hurley and Logan managed the missions and handling of the A.C.E.S. recruits, General Stone was in charge of making sure that the facility itself ran smoothly and that there were plenty more prospects to farm. I think a part of him believed in the underlying vision of the clandestine government project, that he was doing good for the world. However, I think a part of him also disliked the fact that these men and women were being let loose under their purview. If it was up to him, I bet he would've rather they all remain in chains, lying motionless in those tubes for the rest of eternity. While he understood their usefulness, he never really did trust those freaks. I guess he always figured that someday it would come back to bite them in the ass. Unfortunately for him, it never really did. Just his."
-An excerpt taken from the pages of Will of Stone: True American Hero-the General Derek Stone Biography
––––––––
GENERAL DEREK STONE looked across the table at Morgan Winter with feigned amused. "So you have no idea where your boys have gone and why they’re in cahoots with the Legion?"
The older man glared back at the general, his eyes narrowing in response. "How many times do I have to tell you, Stone, those boys have nothing to do with the Legion. They are not terrorists, and you know that. They have risked their lives to save the very people you claim to serve. If your men hadn't acted so aggressively, none of this would be happening. We didn't kill that soldier. His body detonated because of a malfunction, not because of Tristan," Morgan Winter proclaimed.
The general shrugged his shoulders and folded his hands. "I understand your frustrations, Morgan. I would be just as upset if I found out that my men proved to be traitors. Right under your very nose, no less. However, it doesn't change the fact that we have video evidence of that soldier dying because of an electrical surge in his suit. A surge that could only have been caused by your little protege, Electro. We’ll find them soon enough, with or without your assistance. Until then, you’re lucky you and the President are on good terms. She still seems to be under the belief that you had nothing to do with any of this. Me, on the other hand, I have my doubts."
"Then it’s a very good thing that none of this is up to you, isn’t it?" Principal Winter muttered.
The General shot the headmaster a smirk before he stood up. Quickly exiting the room, General Stone stormed down the hallway deep in thought. The interrogation of Morgan Winter had gone as expected, and he had been growing tired of the waves of nausea the metamorph was sending his way.
General Stone was well aware that the principal had little knowledge of what was going on. After all, it was the general who had been setting up the situation behind the scenes. What the general had not anticipated, however, was the intervention of the Legion.
How the hell had those freaks come so quickly?
The three students were supposed to have been captured, allowing his plan to continue without a hitch. Now, there were loose ends. If they could somehow tie the soldier's death back to him, everything would fall apart. Thankfully, he was overseeing the investigation and had taken measures to ensure that no one could trace the explosive surge back to the manual override. The general stopped in the middle of a hallway and contemplated his next plan of attack.
Somehow, he needed to grab their attention. He needed to make sure that they reacted the way he wanted to. Despite this setback, the gears were in motion, the general having already convinced the President to begin the roundups. Perhaps he could get the order initiated faster, especially given the amount of chaos that their little skirmish had created.
The only way the freaks could get a jump on them would be if they destroyed the database.
The moment that thought popped into his head, the general's idea sprung forth, solidifying in a moment of genius. Smiling to himself, General Stone continued to stride down the hall. Rounding the corner, he typed furiously on his phone and prepared to send out an email that he was sure would get their attention. If they did manage to crack open the database and find out what he had in store, there was no doubt that they would play right into his hands. All he needed to do was place the cheese where he wanted. The trap would set on its own.
––––––––
IT HADN'T TAKEN LONG for Tristan and his friends to be dragged from the car and carried through the portal opening. After they had passed through the rift, the remainder of the Legion’s crew joined them as well, Port eventually closing the wormhole behind them. Once Tristan and his friends crossed through the dimensional passage, they found themselves withing a vast safehouse teeming with people.
The massive warehouse consisted of several rooms, the largest of which they had just walked into, and despite the boarded-up windows and simple decor, it seemed to be in excellent condition. For a makeshift hideout, the Legion had done their best to furnish the building with high-quality furniture and equipment. The room that they stood in was some kind of conference/planning room, several laptops and desktop monitors littered the area, and there was a large gathering table where several metamorphs were currently huddled around staring at a map. A side room contained several beds and sleeping bags for the residents, while another opened into a dining hall, complete with collapsible tables, fridges, and cooking appliances. The room behind them was lined with stacks of inventory supplies, and there was a sparring mat toward the back wall for training.
When Tristan and his friends teleported through, they were greeted by watchful eyes as the residents stopped what they were doing. A tense moment stretched along while the rest of the Legion safely made their way back. Upon walking through the portal himself, Christian looked around at the wide-eyed glares of his teammates before snapping his fingers.
"As much as I appreciate an audience, it would be nice if we could get some medics in this place. Anybody want to try to be somewhat useful and tend to the wounded?" Christian complained, a note of impatience in his voice. At his command, two metamorphs shot forward and attended to the three injured classmates. Tristan, Gabriel, and Juan were brought to the central table where they were given a seat as the two healers did their work. Tristan could feel the gashes along his arms and legs knitting themselves together, his blood eventually stopping its flow upon the floor. Though still woozy from the blood loss, Tristan did his best to observe his surroundings, taking note of the number and features of metamorphs around him. While he was aware that the Legion had several factions under their belt, he had never seen so many under one roof. There had to be at least sixty metamorphs within this warehouse, and they all seemed to be assigned to various tasks.
Canvassing their enemies, Tristan was taken aback by what he found. While the five members he had faced two summers ago had seemed terrifying, to say the least, these people looked like your average metamorphs. There appeared to be no distinguishing factor compared to those he had known at the Academy. In fact, some of them were former students from the Academy, graduates who had gone on to leave the school within the last two years.
Frostbite? Marionette? Port? What the heck is going on?
"I'm sure you guys are a little disoriented right now and confused," Christian spoke, his back facing away from them as he marked a few things upon the map and gestured to those around it. Turning toward Tristan and his friends, Christian gave them one of his customary smiles, the ones which never seemed to quite fit, an unintelligible mixture of emptiness and pleasure. "You're currently in a safe house that we own, one of the few that we use within the United States, up in the mountains of Colorado. I don't think there's any need to give you guys the exact details, but know that you’re safe. I’ll make sure that you’re well taken care—"
Before Christian could finish his statement, Gabriel jumped up and lunged forward, his body swiftly enclosing within a suit of sand. Gabriel delivered two blows to Christian's face before he was pulled back by the surrounding members of the Legion.
"I'm gonna kill you, you stupid domkop!" Gabriel cried out, his face turning a darkened shade of red. "You think you can come into our lives and pretend everything's all right? You think we're friends or something? After everything you've done, all the lives that you've taken, you’re seriously about to come and tell us that we're safe with you? Get your goons off of me, and we're going to finish this once and for all!"
Christian held out his hands to his crew, many of whom were starting to power up their abilities in the expectation of suppressing Gabriel.
"Easy, everyone. No need for the animosity. You can let him go. That’s just how Agayu greets old friends. He may not understand what's going on, but that doesn't mean we stoop down to his level and act like animals. We’re more civilized than that now," Christian quipped, wiping the blood off of his lips.
Tristan was thrown off by the comment. The old Christian would have given in to his emotions, exchanging blows with Gabriel just to prove a point. But now, Christian seemed completely unfazed by Gabriel's assault, remaining not only calm but understanding of his rival’s reaction.
Facing Gabriel, Christian gave a slight nod to his teammates, and they immediately released him. "I'm not here to fight you, Gabe. Clearly, it’s not my intention for you guys to be harmed. Otherwise, I would've gladly let the S.W.A.R.M. finish their work. The reason I saved you is simple: you guys are metamorphs. And despite everything that we've been through, I still consider you my friends. We are in a war, and this time, the opponents have changed. It's not me against you, the Legion against the Academy, anymore. We already won that battle. We've already set in motion what we needed to, and before long, the metamorph community will thank us. But for now, we all need to stick together as a species. We are being hunted in the streets like dogs, and it's only a matter of time before General Stone and his goons start picking us off one by one."
"What the hell are you talking about, Christian?" Tristan questioned. "Do you know something we don’t about what happened in D.C.?"
Christian shrugged and shook his head. "Not much, except for what we saw on the news. I had suspected that at some point one of our people would finally clash with the general and his mechs, but I never thought that it would wind up being you guys on the doorsteps of the nation’s courthouse. And here I thought I was about the theatrics," Christian scoffed.
"Over the past few months, ever since the Registration Act was passed, we’ve been doing our best to keep order out there in the world. Metamorphs are being hunted down and oppressed, not only by the humans around them but by law enforcement as well. We’re being detained against our will for doing nothing more than being born special. Meanwhile, the Council is willing to sit back and do nothing about it, but the Legion has stepped forth and made sure that our people have a chance to fight back. We’re freedom fighters now, Tristan. We’re the liberators of our people, and right now—"
"Oh, fokkoff, Chris," Gabriel shot out. "Don't try and act like you guys are some kind of holier-than-thou organization here to save the world! You guys are a bunch of murderers and nothing more. You’ll stop at nothing to achieve your own selfish goals, metamorph supremacy, and you don't give a damn about the lives you have to take, metamorphs or humans. You forget, we've seen you. The real you. You're no savior. Your hands are just as bloody as Shadow’s."
The last line stung Christian, and Tristan could see the whites of his eyes filling in with inky darkness. Taking in a deep breath, Cristian maintained control, and soon, their normal, brown hue returned. Christian shook his head at Gabriel, an expression of disappointment upon his face.
"I can see your temper hasn’t changed, Gabe. That’s a shame. You're still the same ignorant, impulsive boy I first met at the Academy. I'm not here to convince you of anything. The facts are the facts. If you have an issue with what I've been doing since I've taken over as leader, feel free to ask around and raise your complaints to the people within this room. The people who were rescued from near-death experiences at the hands of their human neighbors. The people who have been freed by my own hands from the cramped, dirty prison cells that they were unfairly thrown in. The people who have been reunited with their families because of the selfless sacrifices of my men and women. Go ahead, I'll wait."
Gabriel glared at the comment but remained silent. As Tristan scanned the room, he found everyone to be staring at them, their faces resolute and bodies practically shaking from passion. It was at this moment that Tristan came to a realization. While the students saw Christian as nothing more than a psychopath, a monster who had betrayed them, to the people in this room, hell, perhaps to the Metamorph community itself, he had become a folk hero. He was their defender.
Christian turned to Juan and said, "Go ahead, Psyborg. Read my mind. See if I'm making all of this up. See if I truly am the monster you guys claim me to be."
For a moment, Juan's eyes narrowed, and Tristan could see that his friend was probing Christan's mind. Eventually, he looked at Tristan and Gabriel before shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. "His mind is pretty well protected, and there's not much for me to glean from what he's giving me. However...it seems like everything he's told us so far has been the truth. A lot of these people are refugees and those who’ve been imprisoned by the humans. He truly does believe that he's trying to make a difference for our people."
"You still took a hell of a risk in rescuing us. Why take the risk? Wouldn’t it have been better to let us get caught? One less obstacle in your way," Tristan questioned, standing up from his seat. While his wounds were all closed at this point, his body still felt weak, and it took everything he had to hold himself up.
"I told you, Tristan. You’re the key to all of this. The time was coming when we needed to meet face-to-face. No more emails, just you and me. The truth needs to be told, and you need to understand what we’re facing. The war is coming, whether we want it or not, and soon you guys are going to have to figure out which side you stand on," Christian replied.
"Wait, what? What are you guys talking about? What emails?"
Tristan turned to face Gabriel, unable to meet his friend’s eyes. He said nothing as he hung his head, the red, hot heat of guilt flushing against his face.
"Tristan," Gabriel began, his face dropping at the look on Tristan's face, "Tell me you haven't been talking to this douchebag behind our backs? Tell me you two haven't been working together this whole time?"
Tristan shook his head. "No, Gabe. It's not like that. Remember when I was contacted last year by the Guardian of the Truth? The one who had given us the information on Doomsayer and M7?" Tristan sighed and gestured toward Christian.
Tristan could see the pieces finally click as Gabriel shook with rage. "So it was him the whole time? How the hell did he get access to the school servers?"
"They are not as secure as you all think. It also helps that I found a back way in during my time at the Academy," Christian admitted with a shrug. "I'm not here to try and break up your little band, but I’m tired of lying to you guys. I'm here to keep you guys safe, even if you don't believe me, Gabe. It wasn’t my first choice, but if I had come forth as myself from the beginning, there was no way you guys would have believed me. I had to take on the alias if I wanted to help you," Christian stated.
Taking a deep breath, Tristan looked at Christian before stating, "We need to talk. Is there somewhere we can go?"
From his tone, it was apparent that Tristan was looking to be alone for this conversation. He ignored the faces of his friends as they dropped, and Christian gave him a subtle nod. Tristan faced Gabriel and Juan before continuing. "You two should get patched up. Get some rest, and I'll be with you guys in a few minutes. I've got a bone to pick with Christian, and before we figure out what to do next, I need to make sure that I can trust what's going on in this safehouse. I'm sorry to do it this way, but I need you guys to trust me."
Gabriel’s eyes wavered, however, the two metamorphs nodded in agreement.
"Don't make me regret this, Trist," Gabriel muttered. "And don't think we’re done with this conversation. You've got a lot of explaining to do."
Tristan nodded toward his friend and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before spinning around to follow Christian into the adjacent room. The two former teammates walked past the inventory shelves, Tristan quickly scanning the weapons and ammunition stash laid out along the racks. There was enough to fuel a small army, something which Christian now had at his disposal. The two young men walked over to the padded area and faced off against one another. For a moment, neither spoke, Tristan folding his arms across his chest and staring down the face of Christian. Finally, he drew back his arm and delivered a resounding punch right into the jaw of his old classmate. He didn’t hold back.
"All right, I think I said my part. Feel free to provide a response," Tristan snarled.
Christian got up from his knees, rubbing the side of his face as he wiped more blood off of his chin. Cracking his neck, he met Tristan's eyes and nodded. "All right, I probably deserve that."
"No, Christian. You deserve a hell of a lot more. You left us for dead. You left me for dead. You betrayed the only family that you knew to help the Legion destroy the Academy. As much as you want things to go back to the way they were, nothing will ever change that. We’re not friends, Chris. It took me over a year to get past what you did and to be honest with you, it still hurts. As far as I'm concerned, you died back at the beach along with the rest of your so-called teammates.”
“Whoever this is," Tristan gestured at Chris's body, "is somebody I'm entirely unfamiliar with. I don't know you anymore, and I doubt I ever did. So state your case, so that I can get the hell out of here and back to the people I actually care about," Tristan finished.
Christian nodded his head in acknowledgment, although Tristan could see that his words had cut him deeply. "That's fair. I don't expect your forgiveness. I'm not asking for it. The things that I did, the people that I hurt... I'm sorry it had to happen that way. If there was any other way for us to have accomplished our goal, believe me, Tristan, I would have fought for it. But it was the only way, and I have no regrets with the outcome. I just want you to know that this isn't the same Legion you fought two years ago. We’re different now. I'm different now. Even though the things that we did were for the greater good, we did them all wrong. I'm still fighting for the same goals, but I'm making sure we’re doing it the right way this time. No more metamorph blood needs to be spilled to secure a better future. It's already coming."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean, Chris? What is this all about?"
Christian gestured to the floor, motioning for Tristan to sit. "I think you’re going to want to sit down for this,” Christian replied before continuing.
"Everything that we've done, everything that we’re currently doing, is a result of the Magnificent Seven and what happened all those years ago. When the M7 was created, they were supposed to be a super-team, a group of friends who had dedicated their lives for the preservation of the metamorph community. Their original focus was on making sure that their people were taught how to properly use their powers and to ensure order within their community. They wanted to protect the world from those who were abusing their powers for their selfish ambitions. Thus, they became not only academics but a policing force as well.
“When the U.S. government discovered the super-group, they proposed a partnership, offering the M7 resources that they couldn’t obtain themselves. While your grandparents were originally opposed to making such a deal, the others convinced them to take it, reasoning that the funding would allow them to have a greater impact upon the metamorph community and help forge a powerful alliance with the most formidable nation on earth. Eventually, they all agreed that while the U.S. government was funding the Academy, the M7 would be employed by the nation to help combat and capture rogue metamorphs who the government couldn’t handle.
“At first glance, the deal was a fantastic opportunity. The school was given all the resources they could ever need to thrive and grow their student base, while the M7 maintained order throughout the world, ridding the populace of their evil brethren. But something more sinister was brewing beneath the surface, something that would eventually come to destroy the M7.
"Jealousy and inflated egos were the reason why the M7 were taken down," Tristan remarked. "Everyone knows that their pride got the best of them and tore them apart. And from what Principal Winter has mentioned, my grandfather’s ailment certainly played a part."
Tristan glanced down at the markings upon his hands. They had yet to fade away, though he had managed to keep his emotions in check since he had arrived.
"That's only a part of it, Tristan,” Christian whispered, shaking his head. “The real reason they fell apart was because of what your grandfather discovered.
"When the solar flares happened, your grandfather and Magnetron were subjected to a series of tests and experiments by the government. The military leaders were concerned that they would become too powerful and eventually turn upon the men they worked for. Hiring some of the most brilliant metamorph minds, including Morgan Winter and Tech, they developed equipment that would effectively dampen or reduce their powers.”
“Meanwhile, several of the M7 members had already begun to appoint a temporary leader in his absence. They reasoned that your grandfather wasn’t fit for duty due to his erratic behavior and inability to control his powers. Determined to prove them wrong, your grandfather broke into the testing facility to retrieve his results. As fate would have it, Captain Thunder fell upon something far more sinister in his investigation.”
Christian took a deep breath. “He discovered the Carcerem."
Tristan frowned at the word, unable to decipher its relevance. "The Carcerem? What the hell is that?"
"The Carcerem is the maximum-security prison that the detained metamorphs were being held in. Originally, the government had told the M7 that all captured metamorphs would be placed in a secured location and cared for like any other prisoner. That wasn't the case, however.
“Using the science behind Winter’s Deus Suppressor, they had devised a way to encase these prisoners in a state of suspended animation. We've seen the device firsthand during our first year when Professor Tullage introduced us to Shifter. The device slows down their metabolic rate and vitals, placing them in a technologically-induced coma, their bodies trapped in a state of suspended animation while their minds continue to function.
“By capturing these metamorphs, the U.S. government had control over the most dangerous individuals to ever walk the earth. Individuals whom they decided to use for their perverted agenda. It was called the A.C.E.S. Project, the government’s utilization of these metamorphs as their personal weapons, releasing them from their bondage to do their dirty work: political assassinations, suppressing insurgents, and espionage. If the metamorphs were killed while on a mission, it was one less criminal to worry about, and if they succeeded, they could be used again, coerced by the promise of potentially earning their freedom. However, no one ever got that far, all of them eventually falling in the line of duty.
“And do you want to know the worst part? Some of them weren’t even villains. Some of the prisoners which the Seven were sent to detain were just powerful metamorphs that the government wanted to get their hands on. These so-called ‘criminals’ were being captured and used as dogs of war. The M7 was essentially selling their people into a life of slavery."
Tristan’s heart stopped in his chest, a chill creeping through his spine. Christian had to be making this stuff up. He had to be. There was no way any of this could be true. Right?
“When your grandfather discovered this, he knew he needed to do something about it. He came forth, releasing the information to his teammates in the hopes that they would come to their senses and aid him in confronting the government about their crimes. Unfortunately, he placed too much trust in his teammates. Rather than aid their leader, they accused him of conjuring conspiracy theories, a manifestation of his psychosis following the solar flares. They sold him out and reported him to the U.S. government, where he was stripped of his title and forced out of the group. They claimed that he was losing his mind, that he had become too dangerous to have around.
Your grandfather was disgraced, and he decided to retire then and there. He went back to his home in Miami, where he and his wife packed their bags and prepared to leave the country which had so deeply betrayed them. I don’t think I need to explain what happened next, Tristan. Your grandfather had become a liability."
At this point, Tristan let out a scoff. "You're not implying what I think you are. Are you seriously telling me that the government was responsible for my grandparents’ death? That they were assassinated?" Tristan questioned.
"No, Trist,” Christian sighed. "It wasn't just the government that betrayed them. It was the M7 as well. They were the ones that revealed where your grandparents lived. You see, part of the agreement to working with the government was that they wouldn’t be forced to give away their human names or where they lived unless they did so voluntarily. Your grandparents never surrendered their information. The only way the government would have known where they lived was if one of their own betrayed them.”
Tristan’s head swam at the accusation, the weight of the statement hanging heavy in his mind.
“However, what they didn't expect was that your grandfather would survive the blast."
"What? He survived?" Tristan gawked.
Christian nodded his head. "Your grandfather was the most powerful metamorph in the world at the time, Tristan. Some gas line explosion wasn't enough to stop him from getting his revenge. Sadly, the death that was meant for him was passed to his wife, and it destroyed his world. He decided to take his rage out on those who were responsible.
"Using Winter’s device, your grandfather discovered a way to make himself more powerful, even more so then what the solar flares had unlocked within him. He decided to use the device as a Deus accelerator and further enhance his mutation. It would require several components and an active fuel source, which he was able to find in a place known as Chernobyl. When the government and the M7 found out what he was attempting to do, they rushed to the location and attempted to stop him. The battle was horrendous and it cost many lives. In the end, the M7 and the government got what they wanted. They finally ended the reign of Captain Thunder."
"The Chernobyl accident...was my grandfather? It happened because of a battle between metamorphs?"
Christian nodded his head. "It was all a cover-up, Tristan. They made it seem like it was a nuclear accident rather than the wanton destruction of metamorphs turning against one another. When all was said and done, they looked upon the rubble and believed your grandfather was dead."
Tristan’s blood ran cold. "What you mean they believed he was dead?"
"Despite their best efforts, they failed to kill your grandfather. His body was found several days later amongst the rubble by the U.S. government. True to form, they hid this fact from the metamorph community and took him back to the Carcerem, forcing his unconscious body into a state of suspended animation like the other prisoners. They never told anyone about it, hoping to continue their testing and experimentation upon him. They completed their cover-up of the Chernobyl event, and the M7 were sworn to secrecy. No one was ever allowed to know the truth about what happened to your grandparents. They made up lies and said that they died within the fire at their home.
“As for your grandfather, he remained buried beneath that government building for decades until he was eventually found and released by the true saviors and liberators of the metamorph community."
Tristan was still reeling in shock but was able to pick up on the not-so-subtle hint Christian was throwing him. "You guys found him? You guys broke him out?"
"Oh, we did much more than that, Tristan. That was the entire reason why we attacked the island in the first place. There is no way to release them from their coma unless we utilize the very technology that placed them in this state: Winter's DNA. We needed that key to unlock him from his imprisonment."
"Are you telling me...my grandfathers alive?" Tristan whispered.
"Not only is he alive, Tristan, but he is thriving. All those years locked in a state of suspended animation and he’s just as vibrant as ever. It took him nearly two years to regain his full strength. And he’s excited to meet you, Tristan."
Tristan was in a state of free fall. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, the revelations a mixture of absurdity and terrifying truth.
How could the M7 stand by while the government used their people in such a way? How could they have sold out one of their own? How could they have turned against his grandfather? They caused the deaths of innocent lives, and simply covered it up as some kind of nuclear accident!
It begged the question: was Tristan really on the right side? The Legion were the ones who brought his grandfather back to life and were working towards freeing their people in these dangerous times. Meanwhile, the Council was standing aside and doing nothing, just like the M7 had! What did it say about the Academy? What did it say about Tristan?
Snapping Tristan out of his thoughts, a metamorph ran into the room, slightly out of breath. "Hey, I know you guys are talking, but I think you need to see this."
Frowning, Christian gave Tristan a shrug, and the two moved toward the commotion. They walked to the living quarters, where everyone was gathered around a television, including Juan and Gabriel. There was another announcement on the news, General Stone delivering yet another address. There was video footage being shown of Tristan and his friends at the courthouse. From the obscured camera angle, it appeared like the soldier exploded directly in front of Tristan as he attempted to speak with them. From this viewpoint, there could be no doubt that one of the three metamorphs were responsible for his death. Tristan clenched his fists, his body shaking at the obvious manipulation that was being used. This was clearly a set-up.
General Derek Stone now stood before a crowd of reporters on those very same steps, delivering his speech:
“As you‘ve now seen, we’ve lost one of our very best soldiers as he attempted to protect the metamorphs that were here today. We had brought them here in in the hope of coming to a peaceful arrangement, getting a better idea of what had actually occurred in Michigan. Unfortunately, as you are aware, there was a leak of information leading to the protesters that arrived. We did our best to restrain them and protect these metamorphs, however, in their panic, they killed one of our own.”
“We attempted to apprehend them, but they use their abilities to incapacitate both our soldiers and the powerless civilians that were around. In their escape, they caused incalculable damage upon city property and badly injured many of our men and women. On top of that, they have proven themselves associated with the terrorist organization known as the Legion, who provided them a means of escape.
“At this point, I think it’s fair to say, that we have done our absolute best in attempting to keep this as amicable as possible. However, they have left us with no choice. These dangerous metamorphs must be stopped. These small groups are making a bad name for metamorphs everywhere who are trying to live out their lives in peace. We cannot allow these exceptions to ruin the lives of innocent metamorphs out there in the world. So we have decided to proceed with our detainments. Starting tonight, we will be going through the metamorph database and identifying those of Power 5 levels and above. All those who meet the criteria must report to the authorities to be taken to our facilities. We have devices in place that will aid in restricting their power levels, technology that is entirely humane and will allow them to live amongst us in peace. This is as much a benefit to them as it is to us humans. After they have been gathered and neutralized, they will be allowed back into our communities. We urge citizens not to panic during this time. We are here to maintain peace and restore order. At any cost."
The General ended his speech and proceeded off the steps as the footage continued to roll, showcasing tonight's car chase. Tristan turned to face Christian, who stared at him with cold, blackened eyes.
"I told you this would happen, Tristan. It was only a matter of time. This is just the beginning. This is how our war begins."
