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Chapter 165 – The Train in Motion
🕑 Added 2025-09-13 16:56:54 +0000 UTC
“My kid used to look up to you freaks.”
The sneer from a soldier snapped Super Joker out of his nap. He yawned, blinking blearily at his surroundings—and realized he was shackled to a reinforced prisoner’s seat alongside the others.
Everyone looked miserable, arms twisted behind their backs in a posture designed by someone with zero concern for ergonomics. But what really crushed the spirit wasn’t the posture. It was the collar.
The inhibitor ring clamped around each neck snuffed out the X-gene like a wet rag on a flame. Even Omega-class mutants—gods in human skin—were reduced to mewling kittens with the click of a clasp.
The rumble beneath them left no doubt: they were on a special military transport, a steel serpent clattering down the rails toward a “containment facility.” A polite euphemism for mutant prison.
Hank McCoy, back in his human form, glanced sideways as the snoring cut off.
“Finally awake. Honestly, I thought those darts had fried your nervous system. No one takes ten shock rounds and walks away… except apparently you.”
“I’m still growing,” Joker replied, shameless. “Sleep and snacks are vital. You gonna take responsibility if I stunt my development?”
Hank pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just answer one thing—does the collar even work on you?”
Super Joker gasped theatrically, then pitched his voice loud enough to rattle the car.
“Ohhh, I’m so weak! So frail! Somebody fetch me adult diapers, quick! This wonderful collar has shut down not only my mutant powers, but my bladder and sphincter too. I’m leaking! Help, please!”
Every mutant groaned. Even the guards winced.
Only Nightcrawler looked genuinely alarmed.
“Wait… zis device can really do zat? Because I do feel… a little funny in my stomach.”
“No, Kurt,” Hank muttered. “That’s called gullibility.”
Magneto, stripped of his helmet, ignored the clown show entirely. He was too busy smirking at the man across from him.
“Well, Charles. Seems your allies in uniform aren’t so different from mine after all. How does it feel, to share my cage?”
Professor X’s jaw tightened. “Once we fought in the middle of a city, this was inevitable. And don’t pretend it was only the Army’s fault. They weren’t the ones tearing up the streets. That was us.”
“So when they raise their guns, we’re supposed to bow our heads and accept it?” Magneto’s voice dripped with venom.
“Your escalation turned a tense standoff into chaos,” Charles shot back.
Magneto’s chuckle was cold. “Ah yes, the infallible Professor Xavier. Forever righteous, forever above reproach. Tell me, Charles—has being the world’s superhero saint blinded you to your own arrogance?”
This time, the barb didn’t spark anger. Charles hesitated, then spoke quietly:
“I’ve made mistakes. More than I care to admit. But helping Jean was never one of them. I don’t want her handed to the military, or to you, or to the aliens. If I could undo her mission into space… if I could carry that burden myself, I would.”
The professor’s voice dropped, heavy with warning.
“And now I know why the aliens are here. That force inside Jean? It destroyed their homeworld—but it can also reshape one. They’ve come to cleanse Earth, to make it their own. Soldiers, you must hear me. Report it up your chain. This isn’t over.”
“Enough!” the sergeant barked, slamming his rifle butt against the steel wall. “No more stories about aliens. We didn’t see any little brown men with big heads. Just you mutants wrecking the city.”
The E.T. quip hung in the air, bitter and absurd.
Charles wanted to shout the truth—that there was literally an alien chained in the same car, sitting right under their noses—but the guards had already dismissed the notion.
So he tried another tack.
“The fire raining from the sky—that was their landing. They didn’t reveal themselves because we were too busy fighting each other. Their priority is Jean. They’ll strike again. And where better than a prison train, rolling through empty countryside?”
“Rubbish.” The sergeant spat the word. “No one’s stupid enough to hit a U.S. military transport.”
The universe, as always, chose that moment to disagree.
Thud. Thud. THUNK.
Something slammed against the roof. The car shuddered. Instantly, rifles came up, barrels pointed skyward, every soldier’s knuckles white on their triggers.
The mutants stiffened. Veterans of endless battles, they recognized the shift in the air. Storm before lightning.
Cyclops leaned forward, voice urgent.
“Take these restraints off. We can fight with you.”
“Shut it! This is your rescue party, isn’t it?” the sergeant snapped. He raised his comm. “Enemy contact, report!”
Gunfire rattled through the train, sharp and unrelenting. Metal screamed as something tore across the roof.
A voice crackled through the comms, broken and terrified:
“They’re… they’re not—”
“Not what? Report! REPORT!” the sergeant barked, panic rising.
The comm cut off in static.
Every gun in the car aimed at the rear door as footsteps echoed closer, deliberate, heavy. The machine gunner at the back chambered a round with trembling hands.
And all the while, the steel serpent thundered onward through the night.
