Hundreds, no, thousands, of high-yield missiles reversed course mid-flight, roaring back through the sky.
As they streaked toward Earth's most secure military installations, their warheads seemed to twist and shift, contorting into mocking, sneering visages as if laughing at the futility of human resistance.
Some of those bases weren't just fortified, they held dormant nuclear weapons.
Across the globe, high-ranking military officials watched the incoming onslaught on their monitors with horror and despair. They had gambled everything, and lost catastrophically.
Instead of obliterating Martin, their concentrated missile barrage had been effortlessly hijacked and redirected. Their own weapons had become executioners.
"God... have you abandoned us?! Why is this happening?!"
"No, we did the right thing! Martin had to be stopped. We had to do this! So why are we being punished?!"
"Who can stop these bombs now? Magneto? No... He won't lift a finger. The fact that he's not actively helping Martin attack us is already the best we can hope for..."
Before the very screens meant to offer them control and command, many officers simply broke down. What Martin had just demonstrated wasn't just power, it was something beyond comprehension.
In less than a breath, he had activated and reprogrammed thousands of supersonic missiles, treating them like toys. It wasn't just overwhelming, it was apocalyptic.
Martin wasn't like Professor X or Magneto. He wasn't bound by restraint or ideology. His fury was unfiltered, absolute.
He gazed upon his handiwork with twisted admiration, silently anticipating the obliteration of half the Western Hemisphere's military infrastructure. If he was lucky, he might even witness the radiant bloom of a nuclear mushroom cloud or two.
But then—
"Stop, Martin!" a sharp, desperate voice echoed directly into his mind. "You could have sent those missiles into space. Why escalate things this way?!"
Martin's brow furrowed.
"Charles, they fired first. The Atlantic Fleet struck me, I destroyed it. Their military bases launched coordinated attacks, I'm just turning their weapons back on them. What's wrong with that?"
"Everything!" Professor X's voice was taut with urgency. "An eye for an eye won't restore balance. You're not retaliating, you're declaring war on all humanity!"
"Wrong again," Martin replied coldly. "These idiots don't represent all of humanity. I am human. That hasn't changed. But they're finished. Every one of those warheads is going to find its target."
At the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, Professor X inhaled deeply, his face grave. He reached for the Cerebro amplifier, locking it into place.
"Forgive me... I have no choice."
He had to act. The stakes were too high. If Martin launched an all-out assault, it would spark World War III, a conflict that wouldn't just devastate cities, but rend the very fabric of civilization.
This wouldn't be like WWII, when Charles and Erik were just children, when metahuman threats were few and contained. Back then, Jean Grey hadn't even been born.
But now?
Superhumans. Mutants. Cybertronians. The battlefield would be Earth itself.
He activated Cerebro and cast his mental reach toward Martin's location, but not to control Martin.
That ship had sailed. Martin's psychic defenses were unlike anything Charles had ever encountered, an impenetrable mental fortress.
No, Xavier made a different gamble.
He targeted the Transformers.
These weren't mindless machines. They were sentient lifeforms; living beings with souls, thoughts, and spirit. And so long as they had minds, he could influence them.
"I'll guide these Cybertronians," Charles whispered to himself. "Make them intercept the missiles... before it's too late."
Coastal Frontline.
A flicker of disturbance swept through the air.
Megatron's crimson optics narrowed.
"Hmph... A psychic parasite?" he sneered. "Get. Out."
All across the shoreline, Cybertronians lifted their heads in perfect unison. Their expressions turned cold. Calculated. Merciless.
Martin turned as well, and immediately understood what was happening.
"Charles... you're too naive," he murmured. "And now you've doomed yourself."
Without hesitation, Martin activated his ultimate weapon:
The AllSpark.
The source of all Transformers' lives, brimming with terrifying bio-energy and psychic power, containing the souls and memories of every Cybertronian—Megatron's included.
In that instant, Martin sent a mental pulse through the AllSpark.
Cerebro Core, Xavier Institute.
Professor X was mid-cast, deep within the Cybertronians' neural architectures when his expression twisted.
"No... This isn't multiple minds... This is... one!"
What should have been individual consciousnesses instead converged into a single, endless psychic sea, emanating from the AllSpark. He could feel every memory, every spark, every battle, all coalescing into one vast, unknowable intellect.
"What is this?! This spiritual ocean... it's infinite—!"
BOOM.
The AllSpark retaliated.
A psychic tsunami surged forth, slamming into Xavier's mind like a star detonating. Cerebro flared violently, sparks flying from the amplifier in a shower of flame. The device shorted out with a concussive bang.
Charles Xavier let out a ragged scream. Blood spilled from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth as he collapsed, unconscious.
"Professor!"
"CHARLES!"
Jean and the others rushed to his side, panic erupting in the war room.
And at that exact moment—
The first wave of redirected missiles reached their targets.
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