At the research institute, Donald, who had long been involved in capturing Mutants, looked at the firearms suspended in front of him and his first reaction was Mutants; there were Mutants acting in the dark.
And they were the type with psychokinetic manipulation abilities. He almost instinctively retreated a few steps, relying on the intuition he had developed on the battlefield, and quickly hid behind the defensive formation of mercenaries.
Only after confirming he was in a relatively safe position did his gaze sweep over the group of young children behind Gabriela.
"Who is playing tricks?" His voice was like it had been pulled from an ice cellar, cold, hard, and sharp.
As for Spider-Man, who was currently entangled with Wolverine Clone in a series of spins, jumps, and high-speed movements? Donald barely considered him.
After all, Spider-Man was not Magneto; he shouldn't, and couldn't, snatch weapons from others' hands from a distance during a fierce battle—that wasn't within his range of abilities.
The children's eyes flickered, and they huddled closer to Gabriela like frightened small animals.
Only one little girl in the crowd was different—Laura. She bared her teeth, revealing a row of sharp fangs not belonging to her age, her arms slightly lowered, and the Adamantium claws at her fingertips were faintly visible, like a ferocious Beast poised to strike.
If Gabriela hadn't held her arm tightly and whispered words of dissuasion, she would have probably leaped out already, plunging her claws into Donald's throat.
"Too—slow—!" Seriously, at your speed, I could fight and dodge at the same time. Do you need me to deliberately slow down? Being considerate of children under one meter sixty is a virtue every adult should have, you know."
Peter, the instigator, spoke in a light, even teasing tone.
He had long figured out Wolverine Clone's attack rhythm and combat style. At this moment, he was as leisurely as if strolling in his own backyard, walking backward through the narrow corridor while precisely dodging every deadly claw swipe.
Of course, with the newly acquired ability, he could also multitask, controlling the automatic rifle suspended in mid-air and quietly adjusting the barrel to a suitable position.
When the hot barrel finally aimed at the tireless, constantly attacking humanoid Beast X-24, Peter mimicked the actions of the magnetic control master he knew best, making a gesture of pulling the trigger from a distance.
Tat-tat-tat-tat—!!
Bullets poured down like rain, hot Fire tearing through the air, violently striking Wolverine Clone's back. With a bloody collision, X-24 let out a painful howl.
This monster, deprived of fear by genetic engineering technology, had no human emotions but still retained the sensation of pain.
However, the physical pain did not make him retreat; instead, it thoroughly ignited the ferocity in his bones. His attacks suddenly accelerated, and the sound of his claws tearing through the air became even sharper.
Peter was too slow to retreat, and three cracks appeared on his Spider suit across his chest. He quickly distanced himself and checked, but thankfully, only the suit was torn; his skin was unharmed. Otherwise, even with his current healing ability, he would have been uncomfortable for quite a while.
"Whoa, dude, you're really something," Peter whistled, but his tone turned cold, "But now it's time for the Wolverine chasing Spider game to end."
Donald, having found nothing for the moment, spat on the ground. He couldn't figure out who was secretly manipulating the floating weapons, and he was even more annoyed that Wolverine Clone was being toyed with by an annoying "bug."
Although Wolverine Clone was just a defective product and not their current ultimate experimental result, being played by a bug still infuriated him.
"What the hell are you talking about?!" he roared, "Everyone, listen to my command! Use tranquilizer darts and fire at will! Capture all the Mutant children, including that talkative Spider!"
Click, click—
The sound of guns being cocked rang out continuously, like the whisper of the God of Death. Gabriela clutched the shotgun in her hand, her eyes resolute, already prepared to use her life to secure a last glimmer of hope for these children.
But at this very moment—
All the mercenaries' firearms suddenly shook, then were forcibly yanked into the air by an invisible, immense force! The sounds of metal hitting the ceiling and clashing against each other were incessant, and gasps and curses instantly filled the corridor.
"What's going on?!" A mercenary's eyes widened, his hands still in the position of holding a gun, but where the gun had been, there was only air.
"C-could it be… Magneto has arrived?" another mercenary stammered.
The name seemed to carry a chilling magic, as if it could instantly freeze everyone's blood.
Magneto was the nightmare of every mercenary who risked their lives for money, involved in capturing Mutants.
Panic spread like a plague. They looked up at the weapons suspended in mid-air, slowly turning their barrels to aim at them, their heartbeats thumping like drums.
"Shit! Don't scare yourselves! Magneto can't possibly be here!"
Donald roared, forcing himself to calm down. He knew better than anyone that Dr. Zander Rice's genetically modified food had been on the market for many years, and even Professor X had gradually developed Alzheimer's as a result.
Magneto himself was in dire straits; how could he appear in this remote research institute?
He forced himself to look directly at the dark muzzles of the guns, his voice firm: "Who's playing tricks? If you have the guts, fire!"
There were Magneto's genetic clones among the children, but previous tests showed that none of them could achieve this level, so he wasn't sure.
Peter, while using his Silk to weave a large web to temporarily trap the berserk Wolverine Clone, also used his telekinesis to move another rifle loaded with live ammunition over. The two rifles, one on the left and one on the right, hovered on either side of Donald's head.
Under everyone's gaze, Donald maintained his composure on the surface, but tiny beads of sweat seeped from his temples. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his breathing became heavy.
Beneath his mask, Peter mischievously curved his lips.
"Aren't you afraid?" He muttered in a voice only he could hear, "Your body, however, is quite honest."
Then, Peter suddenly mimicked the sound of gunfire.
"Tat-tat-tat-tat—!!"
Donald flinched violently at the sound, instinctively ducking, but lost his balance due to the sudden movement and fell onto his backside. Large drops of sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, his back was quickly drenched in cold sweat, and he looked as disheveled as if he had just been pulled out of Water.
The other mercenaries, who were also being pointed at with guns, were no better off. Some shouted "Mama" with their heads in their hands, while others collapsed to the ground with weak legs.
Although the guns contained tranquilizer darts, no one wanted to test their lethal dose. In the face of a genuine threat of death, few could remain calm.
Rip—!
Just then, the web trapping Wolverine Clone was forcibly torn open, and the Wolverine Clone, with blood-red eyes, lunged at Peter again, like a killing machine without pain, never stopping.
"Oh, sorry, sorry, I almost forgot about you," Peter said, and before he finished speaking, more than forty suspended firearms swiveled in unison, like an inverted metal funnel, completely surrounding Wolverine Clone in the center of a death ray.
"Now... I won't disappoint you."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Tat-tat-tat-tat—!!!
The roar of bullets instantly swallowed all other sounds. The impact of over forty automatic rifles firing simultaneously was so great that it even forced Wolverine Clone to continuously retreat.
His action of protecting his head with his arms was futile. He let out continuous and mournful wails from his mouth. Even with his powerful healing ability, he could not withstand such dense firepower.
In an instant, the corridor became a scene of flying flesh and blood, littered with bullet casings, a suffocatingly gruesome sight.
Gabriela suddenly turned and pulled the children into her arms, shielding them from the hellish scene, while she herself closed her eyes and prayed softly.
After a round of concentrated Fire, Wolverine Clone was completely disfigured, lying still in a sticky pool of blood, like a torn red rag.
His hollow eyes stared directly at the blood-stained ceiling, as if silently questioning the cruelty of his creation.
Peter was stunned for a moment, then suddenly realized the children were still present, and he probably shouldn't have chosen such a violent method.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I completely didn't notice... Whoa, I'm not usually like this, really."
The moment he scratched his head, all the suspended firearms instantly lost control, clattering to the ground with a continuous metallic clang.
He lowered his head, seemingly very remorseful, but then, thinking of something, he suddenly looked up, his gaze first sweeping over the messy surroundings, then looking at the group of still-shaken mercenaries slumped on the ground, and politely said:
"Uh, excuse me everyone, could you all please stop being idle? The floor is so dirty, could you get up and help clean it up? I don't mind, but the children still have to walk through here, and besides, a little exercise won't do you any harm."
As he spoke, he swiftly shot out his Silk, skillfully disarming all remaining weapons from the mercenaries, then pushed a cleaning cart out from the utility room at the end of the corridor, piled with mops, Water buckets, and disinfectant.
This left all the mercenaries dumbfounded.
They looked at Wolverine Clone, almost unrecognizable, lying in a pool of blood, then at Spider-Man, who was pushing the cleaning cart and still muttering "Where should I start?", and felt their brains short-circuiting.
To be continued…