[A/N]:The First goal for this week is 250 PowerStones for TWO bonus chapters. Comment, vote, and share if you're enjoying the chapter.
Washington D.C. - Capitol Building
Senator Kelly stood in his office, watching news feeds as horror crawled up his spine and settled in his gut like lead, as everything he'd worked for twisted into something monstrous.
This wasn't what he'd authorized; nobody had authorized this, nobody in any government position.
His aide burst through the door without knocking, face pale and sweating. "Sir, the President's demanding answers right now. Congress is in emergency session. Everyone's asking who the hell ordered this! The Joint Chiefs are going insane!"
"Nobody ordered this!" Kelly's hands shook as he slammed his desk hard enough to hurt. "The Sentinel program was mothballed years ago! These robots shouldn't even exist!"
But they did exist, hundreds of them, maybe thousands, all attacking simultaneously with military precision that suggested central coordination.
His phone rang with the distinctive tone reserved for the President.
"I don't care whose authorization they're operating under, Senator." The President's voice was steel wrapped in ice. "I want every military asset we have mobilized against them. Right now. This minute."
"Sir, the Joint Chiefs are already reporting in. Our forces are engaging, but the Sentinels are adapting to conventional weapons faster than we can deploy new tactics. Standard arms aren't cutting it."
"Then use unconventional ones. I want every superhero team on this planet called in if we have to. Call the Avengers, call everyone. This ends today."
Both men knew the truth that neither would say aloud; this wasn't ending today.
Xavier's School - Command Center
Xavier's telepathy reached out across impossible distances, coordinating defenses on multiple fronts, but the psychic strain was immense and growing; connecting with X-Men across the grounds while reaching to other teams worldwide, organizing a global response while his own school was under siege and his students were dying.
Blood trickled from his nose in steady streams because he was pushing harder than was safe, harder than was sane.
But what choice did he have when his students were fighting for their lives?
"Professor, you need to rest!" Jean's mental voice carried genuine concern wrapped in fear, projected with enough force to cut through his concentration. "You're going to burn yourself out! Your brain can't take this strain!"
"I will rest when our students are safe, Jean. Not a moment before. Not one second before."
On screens arrayed before him, he watched his X-Men fight with everything they had: Scott's tactical brilliance keeping them alive against impossible odds, Storm's weather manipulation providing cover and devastating offense, Colossus's armored form serving as mobile shield for the younger students.
They were taking damage though, injuries accumulating with each passing minute, exhaustion setting in as powers depleted and bodies failed.
An alert sounded with piercing urgency as twenty more Sentinels approached from the north, flying in perfect formation that suggested military training.
"We can't take another wave, Professor." Hank's voice came through strained, his usual clinical detachment cracking under pressure. "Our defensive systems are at breaking point. Structural integrity is compromised in the east wing."
Xavier closed his eyes, reaching deeper than he ever had before, with the help of Cerebro.
'To all heroes. To anyone who can hear me. We need help. Xavier's School is under attack. Children are in danger. If you can fight, we need you now.'
The psychic broadcast went out like a flare across New York, across the country, touching every mind capable of receiving it.
Heroes heard it and answered.
New York City - Streets
Officer Marcus Rodriguez crouched behind his squad car, reloading for the fourth time while bullets sparked off Sentinel armor and did absolutely nothing except waste ammunition.
"This is bullshit!" Chen ducked as an energy blast took out a streetlight above them, showering them in sparks. "Why the hell do we even have guns if they don't work?"
"Focus on evac!" Rodriguez shouted back over the noise. "Just get people to the shelters! That's all we can do!"
People panicked and ran everywhere in blind terror, some toward safety, others directly into danger because fear made people stupid.
A little boy stood frozen in the middle of the street, crying for his mother who was nowhere in sight as the Sentinel pivoted toward him with mechanical precision.
Rodriguez ran without thinking, just grabbed the kid and dove behind concrete as the blast vaporized where they'd been standing seconds before.
"Why?" The kid looked up at him with eyes too young to understand this, face streaked with tears and dust. "Why do the robots wanna hurt us?"
Rodriguez had no answer because he was supposed to protect and serve, but protect against what when robots from nowhere could show up and start killing? When his gun meant nothing and his training meant nothing and all he could do was run and hide like everyone else?
The thought was bitter and shameful and true.
Heroes saved the day while regular people just survived, if they were lucky enough to survive at all.
Mumbai - Rescue Shelter
Fire Chief Rajesh Kapoor organized evacuation with competence born from decades of experience, getting thousands into underground shelters while Sentinels tore through the city above like locusts made of metal.
Shelters had limited capacity though, too many people, not enough space, the math brutal and unforgiving.
"Please, sir, she is hurt. Hamein madad ki zaroorat hai(We need help)." A woman clutched her daughter with desperate strength, both covered in dust and blood that hadn't dried yet.
"Medical team is this way, madam." Kapoor directed them toward triage but he knew the truth; too many injured, not enough doctors, they were triaging based on who could be saved, not who needed help most, letting people die to save others.
His radio crackled with another collapse and more casualties.
He'd been a firefighter twenty years, saved hundreds of lives with his own hands, but watching Krish and Chakra fight outside while he herded civilians to inadequate safety, he felt utterly useless in ways that made him want to scream.
"Kyun, sahab? (Why, sir?)" One of his younger firefighters asked, voice breaking with emotion. "Hamesha kisi ko hamein bachane ki zaroorat kyun hoti hai? Hum khud ko kyun nahin bacha sakte? (Why do we always need someone to save us? Why can we not protect ourselves?)"
Kapoor had no answer that would satisfy, no words that would make it better.
He kept organizing, kept directing, kept doing his job even though it felt meaningless against machines that could level buildings.
Because what else could he do except his job?
Paris - Arc de Triomphe
The Sentinels spoke French with perfect grammar, and the irony wasn't lost on anyone paying attention; this happened in the shadow of a monument to resistance against tyranny.
History repeating itself in the worst possible way.
A street artist stood with others being forced into a group, his mutation letting him make paintings come alive briefly, beautiful and useless for combat.
"C'est mal!" He spoke in rapid French, words tumbling over each other. "You cannot do this! We have rights! Les droits de l'homme!"
"RIGHTS ARE SUSPENDED." The Sentinel's voice was emotionless and absolute. "COOPERATION IS MANDATORY."
"Va te faire foutre avec tes protocoles! (Fuck your protocols!)" Someone threw a bottle from the crowd that shattered harmlessly against metal plating.
The Sentinel's weapon charged with deadly intent.
The wall exploded inward.
Fantomex emerged through smoke and debris, his powers making him appear in three places at once while his guns fired specialized rounds designed for exactly this situation.
The Sentinel adapted and calculated trajectories but not fast enough against someone whose mind was designed to be impossible to predict.
Fantomex's was too slippery to track properly, his bullets finding gaps in armor that shouldn't exist according to the schematics, and by the time the robot figured out which Fantomex was real, it was already too late and falling to pieces.
"Courez!" Fantomex shouted in perfect Parisian French without any accent. "Run! I will hold them here!"
The mutants scattered in every direction while Fantomex stood alone against five Sentinels advancing in coordinated patterns.
He'd fought worse odds before and survived situations that should have killed him.
He'd probably survive this too.
Probably.
Xavier's School - Infirmary
Magneto's eyes snapped open as pain flooded his system like electricity through water: broken ribs grinding against each other, fractured arm screaming in protest, internal bleeding Hank had barely stabilized with emergency surgery.
But he heard the battle raging outside, felt metal in Sentinel construction singing to his magnetic senses even through reinforced walls.
"Eric, absolutely not." Hank moved to restrain him with surprising firmness for someone so gentle. "You're in no condition to even stand, let alone fight. You'll kill yourself."
Magneto's hand rose with trembling effort, and surgical instruments flew across the room in controlled arcs, assembling into a makeshift brace for his injured arm with magnetic precision. "Young mutants are fighting out there, Hank." His voice was hoarse but carried iron determination that wouldn't bend. "They fight because I failed to end this in that submarine. I will not fail them again."
"You can barely stand! Your ribs are broken!"
"Then I shall fight flying."
Magneto floated from the bed with visible effort, powers carrying him despite injuries that would have crippled anyone else as every movement brought fresh agony.
But outside, the X-Men were being hurt, children were dying, and everything he'd fought for was burning.
And he'd be damned to hell itself if he stayed in bed while mutant children fought his battles for him.
He drifted toward the window with growing momentum, looking at the Sentinel swarm through eyes that burned with barely controlled fury as his rage, tempered by pain but no less fierce, crystallized into cold focus.
Time to remind the world why they feared the Master of Magnetism, why his name made governments tremble.
Across The Globe
In São Paulo, Sunspot burned through Sentinels with solar fire, his powers enhanced during the invasion letting him operate at levels he'd never imagined possible, hot enough to melt titanium.
In Seoul, the Tiger Division coordinated with local heroes, their Chitauri experience translating remarkably well to fighting adaptive robots with similar tactics.
In Cairo, Dust's sandstorm confused Sentinel sensors while others evacuated civilians from collapsing buildings, her particulate form impossible to target effectively.
In Mexico City, Oya's fire melted robots as she tried desperately not to think about how they looked like bigger, deadlier versions of the aliens from New York that still haunted her nightmares.
In Moscow, the Winter Guard formed defensive lines, scrapping any robot coming their way with brutal efficiency born from decades of fighting super-powered threats.
In Vancouver, Northstar's speed let him evacuate entire blocks before Sentinels could properly target them, moving faster than their tracking systems could compensate for.
In every city, every country, wherever mutants existed, Sentinels appeared like a plague, and wherever Sentinels appeared, heroes fought back with everything they had.
The question echoed everywhere, in every language, in every shelter:
From civilians huddled in basements wondering if they'd see tomorrow.
From police whose weapons meant nothing against metal that shrugged off bullets.
From soldiers whose training meant nothing against machines that learned faster than humans could adapt.
From firefighters who could only rescue, not protect, who could only save a fraction of those who needed saving.
Why do we always need someone to save us?
Why can't we protect ourselves?
Why are we always the collateral damage in someone else's war?
The questions had no good answers, never had, probably never would.
They never did.
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