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Chapter 229: All Methods Useless Against Alex!
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 17:26:29 +0000 UTC
BOOM!
The deafening sonic crack tore through the air, rattling the walls of the corridor like an earthquake. In the blink of an eye, Alex was gone, reduced to nothing but a streak of motion so fast that even the gas swirling around him seemed to hesitate, frozen midair.
CRASH! CRASH!
The steel barriers sealing the passageway—each one nearly a meter thick and reinforced to withstand explosives—didn’t just dent. They were ripped out of their heavy frames as if they were made of cardboard. The slabs were flung down the corridor like massive projectiles, their sheer velocity sending them smashing through wall after wall, leaving a path of destruction in their wake.
Shards of concrete and sparks rained down. The entire underground structure trembled as though a bomb had gone off.
And before even a single fragment of debris could hit the ground, Alex reappeared.
Not a single bead of sweat marred his brow. Not a single breath betrayed effort.
Under each arm, Charles and Hank hung limply—yet both were alive, pulled clear of the neurotoxin cloud in less than a heartbeat.
The deadly gas hissed behind them, but its purpose had already failed.
---
Control Room
In front of the monitors, Schwarzenegger froze.
His broad shoulders, which had once carried the weight of battlefields and missions across the globe, now trembled.
"Impossible…" he whispered, his voice cracking. "TT6 has no effect on him?!"
His fingers hovered above the controls, suddenly clumsy despite years of muscle memory. TT6 wasn’t just any gas. It was their ultimate failsafe—designed after years of genetic research, capable of penetrating the skin, bloodstream, and nervous system.
Even the Three Horsemen themselves couldn’t survive it without specialized suits.
Yet Alex—
Alex had walked through it like it was a harmless mist.
Not only unaffected, but fast enough to rescue others while doing so.
Cold sweat poured down Schwarzenegger’s back. He had faced death many times before, but this—this was a kind of fear he had never known.
"Oblivion! Protocol Two ineffective! Repeat—Protocol Two failed! Requesting further instructions!"
His voice cracked, betraying the panic that now consumed him.
For a moment, there was only static.
Then Oblivion’s voice came through—measured, calm, but tense in a way that made Schwarzenegger’s stomach twist.
"Explain."
"The target was exposed but showed zero reaction," Schwarzenegger stammered. "He breached containment instantly and evacuated his companions mid-collapse. He—he’s unstoppable."
There was a long silence on the line.
Schwarzenegger could hear his own heart pounding in his ears.
Then—
"Understood."
Click.
The channel went dead.
---
Albany Estate
Far away, Oblivion lowered his communicator slowly, his face tight.
"Master, TT6 proved useless against Alex," he said, his voice low but edged with urgency.
For the first time, the Master’s eternally calm expression shifted. A faint crease formed between his brows—a flicker of something rare: genuine concern.
"It seems I underestimated him," the Master murmured, almost to himself. "If TT6 fails… then that base cannot hold him."
He turned his head slightly, his crimson hair catching the dim light like a warning flame.
Oblivion didn’t wait for further orders. He already knew what was coming.
With a sharp motion, he crushed the communicator in his palm. The device shattered with a metallic crunch, cutting Schwarzenegger off mid-transmission.
The Master’s voice was quiet, but absolute:
"Initiate Purge Protocol."
---
Control Room
Back in Brooklyn, Schwarzenegger stiffened as a single, unmistakable sound crackled through his earpiece: a hollow click.
His blood ran cold.
"Purge Protocol…"
He knew what that meant. It wasn’t just about deleting files.
Purge Protocol didn’t leave any loose ends.
It erased data.
It erased evidence.
It erased people.
And that included him.
Adrenaline surged through his veins as he spun in his chair, yanking open hidden compartments and dragging out data drives.
He had seconds—maybe less.
Fingers shaking, he began frantically overwriting servers, initiating emergency wipes, and tossing physical files into the high-speed shredder.
If he was going to die, he would at least ensure Alex got nothing—
WHOOSH!
The air shifted violently, a rush of wind slamming into the room like a silent hurricane.
Schwarzenegger’s eyes widened. He didn’t even have time to turn fully before a figure materialized in front of him.
Alex.
Standing there like a phantom, utterly calm.
"Y-you—!"
THUD.
A single precise chop, and Schwarzenegger collapsed to the ground, unconscious before his body even finished falling.
Alex didn’t spare him another glance.
His eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail.
Dozens of monitors flickered with rapidly vanishing data. Half-deleted schematics flashed and disappeared. A shredder hummed, chewing the last fragments of classified documents into strips.
Alex’s jaw tightened.
He was late—but not too late.
There were still fragments to salvage. And even fragments could lead him to the people behind this.
---
Elsewhere in the Facility
Charles and Hank were still recovering, their breathing uneven from the lingering effects of the neurotoxin.
The ground trembled again—a distant rumble of crashing walls and muffled impacts.
Before either could comment, Alex was suddenly there, moving so fast that the air pressure shifted around him.
He carried an armful of confiscated weapons, folders, and a dented hard drive—what little he had managed to save from the purge.
"Found our friends yet?" Hank asked, forcing himself upright despite the weakness in his limbs.
Alex smirked, his expression confident, almost casual despite the chaos he’d just torn through.
"Right this way."
He turned sharply and started forward, his movements precise and unhurried—as though every locked door and hidden trap in the base was already mapped in his mind.
And for Alex, maybe they were.
