The Pentagon should've been peaceful, secure, and bustling with AMC operatives.

But now?

Well, let's just say it wasn't exactly peaceful anymore.

High above, suspended inside an obsidian-coated airship drifting just beyond radar range, Dr Nyx lounged before a wall of monitors. His stained lab coat was undone, boots kicked up on a steel rail.

This was peak entertainment that he had prepared for himself.

The screens displayed feeds from every major angle of the Pentagon - thermal sweeps, pressure sensors, grid schematics, and satellite overlays. The five-sided building was laid out like a diagram beneath his fingertips.

Nyx's hands moved swiftly across a holographic control pad, glowing lines of blue light bending to his commands. With his other hand, he tinkered with the exposed plating of his bionic left arm. Pistons whirred as he twisted a dial embedded near the elbow.

"System latency… 0.03 seconds. Acceptable," he muttered.

He had control of everything.

Locks, power grids, internal comms, air defence sequencing, the dome shielding mechanism, even troop routing.

And the man frustrated the most by it all was General Caldwell.

Nyx grinned, stretching back in his chair. "You really thought I couldn't breach through the firewalls I created, old man?"

The centre of his attention was one man.

The Bloodweaver.

"Subject 357, look at him now," Nyx mused. "I wonder how much his abilities have grown..."

-

Back to General Caldwell.

The general was hunched inside the operating room - an octagonal chamber hidden deep within Block 5 of the Pentagon that smelt of cigars and sweat.

He was receiving a barrage of reports: Injured counts, Garden breach alerts, Dome power flux, Additional troop requests.

But he couldn't respond to them.

His operating room was tweaking - screens blacking out, flickering, dying entirely as Nyx's override code strangled the system. One by one, the monitors powered down until the only illumination came from the dim lights.

A series of his subordinates rushed in, rifles raised, only to stop when they saw their general motionless at the centre console.

"Sir! Comms are jammed!"

"The feeds are gone!"

"Security doors won't accept clearance!"

"And why were we ordered to retreat?!"

Caldwell waved them down sharply.

"Lower your weapons and calm down," he growled.

The squad leaders exchanged tense looks. One of them, Emily, stepped forward - jaw tight, hair braided into a regulation plait, AMC badge glinting on her shoulder.

"But what about the mutant intruders? Shouldn't we-" she began, but a stern look from the general was all that was needed for her to stand down and do as instructed.

'That damned Nyx and his games,' Caldwell thought. 'He's playing with the lives of my men and the base of operations.'

His fists clenched, the veins in his hands bulging. But his hands were completely tied. The systems were locked. The dome was offline. And most of his forces were away.

He could do nothing but sit there and wait.

But that red-eyed man he had seen for a split second before his monitors were shut down…

The image burned into his mind like a brand.

'The Bloodweaver…'

He had been waiting to meet him, hunting him since New York.

Emily had filed a report that night. It described a mutant drenched in blood, wreaking havoc and killing mercilessly, taking the lives of multiple AMC operatives.

A powerful and dangerous mutant like that should be at the top of their hit list, yet one thing made him hesitate...

"I think that it was... Kai."

That one line troubled him.

His stomach twisted every time he remembered it.

'She has to be wrong…' Caldwell thought. 'Then again, I haven't been able to contact him for over six months.'

He swallowed, jaw grinding.

He hated this feeling - being a pawn in someone else's game, just like Kai and his companions were. But unlike Kai, he had a title to uphold. Soldiers to protect. A reputation carved in discipline, not madness.

"Sir," Emily said again, louder this time, snapping him back to reality. "What are your orders?"

Caldwell inhaled, straightened, and spoke with the full weight of a man who had commanded armies long before the Z-Virus reshaped the world.

"We secure this block and protect this operating room as best we can," he said. "Prioritise survival. Stabilise the wounded. Get the medical teams to bring their supplies over."

The room shuddered - not from uncertainty, but resolve.

Even if the world was burning around them, Caldwell would not let his soldiers die to indecision.

Emily and the other squad leads saluted crisply. "Yes, general."

Meanwhile, in the central gardens of the Pentagon, Lenny stood there in the pentagonal garden, confused.

He scratched his head.

All the AMC operatives who had been firing at him, throwing smoke grenades, and preparing advanced anti-mutant weaponry had suddenly retreated after the order. The place went eerily silent - aside from the explosions fading in the distance like distant gun salutes.

Nadya landed beside him, boots sinking slightly into the grass. Her orange eyes were burning with a mix of anger and apprehension.

Nyx's voice still echoed in her mind.

For Lenny, who had no idea who hijacked the speakers, he only knew one thing - Nadya hated whoever it was.

Amina, crouched in a shadowed corner near a drainage grate, pulled her knees closer to her chest. Hearing Nyx's voice had shaken her as well, her brown eyes trembling on the verge of tears.

Lenny felt out of the loop. "Uh… so who was that?"

"A fucker I'm going to blast," Nadya snapped.

He flinched, deciding not to question her further.

That's when the game truly began.

"Look out from above!" Amina called, voice sharp despite her crouched posture.

Nadya and Lenny looked up.

A plane blitzed through the air overhead - sleek, black, and completely unmarked. The roar alone carried enough authority to flatten conversation.

Then figures dropped from it.

No parachutes.

No equipment.

No hesitation.

They plummeted like a group straight out of an action movie.

"Great," Nadya muttered, brushing hair from her face. "As if things weren't bad enough already."

The first to jump out of the plane and land was Irina.

And once she did, Nadya immediately recognised her and the others as Nyx's Mutant Guard Squad.

Ice crystallised under her boots mid-fall, forming a glacial ramp that extended downward in a perfect diagonal. She slid along it with impossible grace, frost trailing like a flowing cape. Her cold blue eyes locked onto the battlefield instantly.

Then came Rocko.

He curled into a stone ball, compact and silent, hitting the ground like a wrecking ball.

Boom!

The impact cratered the soil, rock shards splintering outward. He uncurled slowly, stone plating sliding back into place as he stood, wobbling slightly like an unstable colossus.

Then Brutus hit.

His muscles expanded violently on impact, bulging outward like hydraulic armour, Vera clinging to his back, her arms barely long enough to wrap around his thick neck.

The ground cracked from the force alone. His body spasmed - cramps firing like artillery across his nervous system. His mutation was powerful, but equally agonising.

"Vera… are you okay?" he asked, voice timid despite his monstrous size.

Vera, slender and pale under the settling dust, leaned down near his ear, whispering softly.

"Yes, I am, Brutus."

Meanwhile, Rocko pounded his stone chest proudly. "I'm Rocko."

"Of course you are," Zeke said, landing from the roof of the Pentagon seconds later, shockwave rippling outward to stabilise his descent. The ground trembled again under the secondary impact.

Zeke stretched his neck. "The shaking probably wasn't helping much, so I thought I should get in on the action."

Lenny blinked at him, awe flickering through his reptilian eyes. "Cool entrance, dude."

Zeke smirked back. "Thanks, lizard man."

"Oi!" Nadya barked. "Only we get to bully him, not you."

Lenny sighed internally, slumping slightly. 'They're terrifying but also… kind of idiots.'

But the biggest thing was the palpable tension in the air.

Irina stepped forward, raising a hand. Ice spiralled outward, forming spears hovering behind her like a crown of winter daggers.

"Get ready," she ordered. "Brutus, you and Vera take the green one. Rocko, you get the cocky brat."

Brutus nodded stiffly, wincing through cramps. "Y-yes, Irina."

Vera adjusted her suppressor glasses, green eyes dimming from their red flicker. "Locked and loaded."

Rocko raised both fists, rocks grinding audibly along his arms. "Tank mode: ON!"

Nadya cracked her knuckles.

"Four on four," she murmured, lips curving. "I like those odds."

Though in reality, it was more of a three on four.

She winked at Amina, who, despite hiding, appreciated being included in the number, and gave a tiny nod back. Though she definitely wasn't volunteering to jump in.

'Maybe this is a gift in disguise, Nadya thought, glaring at Irina openly, making it clear who her opponent was.

'Time to pay this bitch back for the last time we fought,'

Irina met her stare, unblinking.

'This time you freeze before you fall, traitor.'

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