GreekGreenGlass
patreon
[Marvel: Xenomorphs] Chapter 62: Yes, We Have an Ally Who Perfectly Counters the Xenomorphs
🕑 Added 2025-02-26 13:34:43 +0000 UTCMagneto left in a towering rage, his mind racing as he pieced together his fragmented memories from recent events. Suddenly, it hit him—Sentry—Robert Reynolds. This was the very person Duncan had requested Professor X to locate during the United Summit.
An ordinary, unremarkable man. What had Duncan done to transform him into such a powerful being? This was like a modern version of Treasure Island.
Magneto couldn’t help but glance back once more. The sight of the grand structure in the distance sent his blood pressure soaring. He forcibly turned away and disappeared into the horizon.
Sensing Professor X’s life force, Magneto looked up at the sky, crushed a few surveillance satellites in orbit with a casual gesture, and then located Professor X and his team at a hidden mountain stronghold.
“Erik, thank goodness you’re back. Otherwise, we would have assumed Duncan had taken control of you,” the four-thousand-year-old Red Devil remarked, eyeing Magneto with a sinister chuckle.
As a demonic mutant, he thrived on entertainment. The mutant cause? That was secondary to him. After all, no matter how powerful Magneto became, could he surpass Apocalypse in his prime?
“Azazel, you should brush your teeth more often and clean out your mouth. Maybe then you wouldn’t spout such nonsense,” Mystique sneered in disgust. She had once borne a child with this red-skinned man—Nightcrawler.
Mystique, Raven, also carried a Xenomorph embryo within her. As Magneto approached, her expression shifted dramatically. She could sense the presence of another Xenomorph inside him.
The Red Devil chuckled darkly. “At least we can confirm one good thing—Erik’s mind is intact, and he’s not losing it again.”
“This was Stryker’s scheme. His son is an extremely powerful mutant who bypassed your defenses and manipulated my mind,” Magneto stated, casting a brief glance at Mystique before moving past her to stand beside the unconscious Professor X.
Wolverine stepped forward to block the dangerous intruder, but with a mere flick of Magneto’s wrist, Logan—his entire skeleton laced with metal—was hurled dozens of meters away.
“Charles still hasn’t woken up?” Magneto’s expression darkened. But upon seeing Professor X’s face, his own concerns deepened further. Xavier looked no different from an ordinary elderly man ravaged by illness.
In the end, Professor X was still just a mortal. This latest attack on his mind had caused severe damage to his body.
“He’s recovering,” Jean Grey said emotionlessly, standing beside Xavier.
Magneto shot Jean a glance, immediately sensing that something was off. She was too calm—unnaturally so. He suspected that the Phoenix Force within her was awakening. But given his own recent loss of control, he wasn’t exactly in a position to lecture her.
“When Charles wakes up, I’ll have him help you unlock your full potential,” Magneto said.
Jean shook her head slightly, her expression unreadable, as the others exchanged puzzled glances.
Cyclops, his fingers hovering over his visor, remained on high alert, ready to unleash an optic blast at any moment. “You’re already the world’s most terrifying terrorist—the cause of countless deaths. Don’t expect us to consider you a friend.”
“Friend? That’s the same nonsense Duncan just tried to feed me. It makes me sick,” Magneto muttered, feeling a strange sensation in his chest that only worsened his mood. “Once Charles wakes up, the Brotherhood and the X-Men will officially unite. Together, we’ll find Stryker and kill him.”
“And what if Stryker takes control of you again?” The Red Devil smirked, enjoying the spectacle. With his longevity and teleportation abilities, he could easily vanish to the other side of the world and hide for centuries, waiting out any threat before resurfacing.
“The Master of Illusions is dead. I refuse to believe Stryker has a second mutant capable of manipulating minds. And even if he does…” Magneto frowned, leaving his sentence unfinished.
Other than Mystique, the rest of the team exchanged wary glances, growing more cautious. Was Magneto slipping back into madness? Fortunately, it didn’t seem that way—yet.
“One more day to regroup,” Magneto commanded. “Azazel, bring some of our strongest Brotherhood members here. And arrange for food and water supplies.”
Dressed in his usual sharp suit, the Red Devil gave a theatrical bow. “As you command, my leader.”
With that, he vanished in a wisp of smoke.
As they waited, others were hard at work elsewhere.
“Damn it! Magneto just destroyed those satellites—another hundred million dollars down the drain!”
“He looks extremely angry. His energy levels have remained at a consistently high threshold, approximately 30% of what they were in Westchester!”
“Hah, how ironic. What is this? The executioner’s fury? Unless he loses control again and slaughters another hundred thousand people! What we should be concerned about is whether he’s still under Duncan’s control! If he is, has he broken ties with Duncan? Have they fought? And why the hell is he building a house for Duncan?”
“Duncan turned Robert Reynolds, a mere thief, into a terrifying host. Even if we could take Reynolds down with a media campaign, we’d still have to deal with the Xenomorph bursting out of him.”
Reynolds was human, after all. But once the creature inside him emerged… it didn’t take much imagination to realize that the Xenomorph would be even harder to deal with, even more invulnerable.
Countless people were desperate to uncover Duncan’s method. They, too, wanted to control a powerhouse like the Sentry. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t realize that the Sentry’s miracle was one of a kind—it couldn’t be replicated.
Nick Fury sat at his desk, overwhelmed by the mountain of reports piling up and the flood of incoming calls.
The Battle of Westchester had shaken the entire world. Tens of thousands had died—casualties of nothing more than a fight between two superhumans.
For the first time, the sheer power of superhumans was laid bare before humanity. Many were only now realizing that when beings of this caliber clashed at full strength, the devastation was no less than that of a large-scale war.
And this had only been a single battle.
What if a superhuman with apocalyptic power and a desire for destruction truly emerged?
Such an entity would be a walking nuclear warhead—only far more mobile, infinitely reusable.
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s standing skyrocketed overnight. They were granted limitless resources—money, personnel, anything they needed—with only one objective: to cultivate their own superhumans, ones capable of defeating Magneto.
Fury rubbed his temples in frustration. These bureaucrats were delusional.
Power? As if he didn’t understand its importance? But expecting to produce someone on Magneto’s level—or worse, the next Robert Reynolds—was sheer fantasy.
Superhumans of that tier were exceedingly rare. If they weren’t, Magneto would’ve been dealt with long ago.
“I keep hearing the same thing—power, power. Do they think I don’t know how crucial it is?” Fury scowled, the pressure on his shoulders mounting.
He replayed the footage of the battle between the Sentry and Magneto over and over. Even though the satellites’ view was frequently obscured—by dust clouds, shockwaves, and electromagnetic interference—the sheer intensity of the fight was undeniable.
This battle had shattered every standard, every rule the world once followed. It had redefined the very concept of “safety,” leaving billions reeling from the implications.
“Duncan is an absolute anomaly. I’ve scoured historical records, and I haven’t found a single precedent for someone like him. His rise has been meteoric, his power accumulation absurd, and his methods… utterly unpredictable.”
Phil Coulson entered the room, carrying a fresh stack of documents. He placed them on Fury’s desk and said, “On the bright side, we have reason to believe Magneto hasn’t been infected by Duncan.”
“How can we be sure, Coulson? Should we track down Magneto, draw some of his blood, and see if it’s corrosive?” Fury scoffed.
Coulson studied him for a moment. If he recalled correctly, Fury was actually older than Magneto. After a brief pause, he continued, “I don’t think that’s necessary. Magneto hasn’t returned to the Brotherhood. Instead, he sought out Professor X. The unification of mutantkind is now inevitable. We can’t stop it—but we can exploit their internal divisions to weaken them.”
S.H.I.E.L.D. had no effective means of dealing with Magneto. Everyone knew he was responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands, but what could they do? Issue another high-level warrant? Maybe add a new category on top of the existing red notice—perhaps a ‘rainbow-colored’ one?
Please. The sheer volume of arrest warrants related to Magneto could stretch from Earth to the Moon. No one took them seriously anymore.
“I’ve made a new discovery regarding the cause of Magneto’s rampage.”
Coulson pulled out two documents and placed them in front of Fury.
The first detailed Stryker’s military assault on Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.
“The second is even more interesting,” Coulson said. “Stryker once had a happy family—a beautiful wife, an outstanding son—until a terrible fire consumed everything. The cause was never determined. His wife perished, and his son vanished—at least as far as official records are concerned.”
Fury immediately caught on. “But when firefighters arrived, they found no flames. You’re suggesting Stryker’s son was responsible?”
“There was speculation that Stryker’s son was a mutant and that his powers triggered the tragedy. But over the years, people stopped talking about it. Now, after Stryker’s attack on Xavier’s school and Magneto’s sudden rampage, I believe his long-lost son is the key.”
“Have we located Jason Stryker?”
“Not even a body. He may have perished in the destruction of Westchester. Mind-controlling mutants typically don’t have strong physical constitutions.”
Coulson tapped on a console, bringing up a holographic map of the world. Scattered red markers blinked across the display, the majority clustered in North America.
“The Xenomorphs are converging. Initially, I thought Duncan would prioritize retaliation against dark sorcerers. But that’s not the case. He’s willing to go to war with the military to eliminate Stryker. Should we warn Stryker?” Coulson asked.
Fury slowly shook his head. “No need. The mutants and Duncan both want him dead. Let them have him.”
“Understood. That’s the fate of adventurers—only a select few enjoy the spoils of victory. The rest? They become stepping stones, dying in silence.” Coulson smirked knowingly.
“Hah. Stryker, at least, should be grateful. He won’t die quietly. His end will be loud. Very, very loud.”
Stryker was beyond saving, but the invaluable data he possessed was of great importance to Fury.
He sent Stryker a direct message demanding all of his research findings, promising to avenge him in return. Of course, the promises of a spymaster were worth nothing—just words to be heard and discarded.
“Coulson, the fact that you’re standing in front of me means you already have a plan, don’t you?” Fury’s lone, fierce eye bore into the refined man before him.
Coulson flipped through a stack of documents he had brought along, smiling. “Yes, sir. I have at least three contingency plans to deal with the threat of Duncan.”
“I assume none of them involve surrendering to him. We’re S.H.I.E.L.D., a global institution. We can’t bow down to a superhuman who wields power based purely on his emotions and whims. That would be a disaster for the world.”
Organizations were far more reliable than volatile individuals—that was Nick Fury’s belief. An institution, composed of many minds, could always be counted on to make sound decisions. But a single person? If they woke up in a foul mood one day, feeling their dignity had been slighted, they might unleash destruction at will. Such instability posed an unacceptable threat to global security.
Coulson pointed to the flashing red markers on the screen and spoke with confidence. “The first plan: Initiate the Mother Mold Project. This will account for Duncan himself, as well as the numerous Xenomorphs and mutants under his influence.”
“The second plan: I have identified a powerful ally with unique psychic abilities. He can permanently sever Duncan’s control over the Xenomorphs and even repurpose their power for S.H.I.E.L.D. to wield. In theory, even the Sentry could be affected due to the Xenomorph within him.”
Psychic abilities?
Fury was intrigued. He immediately sensed that this ability was highly specialized—perhaps one designed specifically to counter non-human entities like Xenomorphs.
“The third plan…” Coulson suddenly lowered his voice. “That black dragon…”
Fury’s expression darkened as old, unpleasant memories resurfaced.
“I will handle the Mother Mold Project. A superweapon factory on the outskirts of the sun was originally our ultimate plan against mutants. Now, it seems Xenomorphs have also been added to our hunting list.”
Fury studied Coulson with approval—this man was sharp and capable. “You will oversee the second plan. If it progresses well, you’ll be promoted to Level 10 agent. But you know what that means—you must find a way to control your ally. I don’t want another Duncan on our hands.”
Coulson nodded knowingly.
“The prospect of S.H.I.E.L.D. bringing the entire Xenomorph species under its command… Just imagining it is reassuring. Earth’s safety would be ensured to the greatest possible extent,” he said with admiration.
—
Outskirts of New York City
A towering skyscraper, 620 meters tall with 120 floors, stood like a sword piercing the heavens, gleaming under the sunlight.
It had risen as if from nowhere.
The entire construction process had been recorded in detail, yet no one could replicate it.
After all, this was a building spearheaded by Magneto. What were they supposed to do—send someone to beat Magneto down and capture him like Duncan did?
But having Magneto build skyscrapers? No matter how one looked at it, the whole thing was utterly bizarre.
Around the building, thrill-seekers and fanatics gathered. Some were reckless journalists, but the majority were fervent believers.
They revered Duncan’s power, their minds shaken by the Battle of Westchester. They longed to touch power, to become superhuman themselves.
In a world like this, who could be more trustworthy than Duncan?
“Where is the Xenomorph Master? What floor is he on? I think I saw him!”
“Xenomorph Master? What a lousy nickname! We all call him the Mind Demon online! Think about it—Mind Demon! The mastermind controlling an army of Xenomorphs, a devil who commands monsters to hunt monsters! You don’t believe in vampires, but I do. And it was Duncan who wiped them out, giving us safe nights!”
“Shut up. He’s never responded to online debates, and he’s never publicly acknowledged any of those nicknames.”
“Great Duncan, perfect Xenomorphs… Ah, just thinking about the Xenomorph form makes me tremble! I can barely stand… Let me become one of them!”
“You mean the chestburster kind?”
“No, of course not! Damn it, why would you want that? It should be like the Sentry—look, the golden figure flying out of the tower! Isn’t that the Sentry? …Oh, he flew back in.”
“…There he goes again!”
“I’m a survivor of Westchester! I wish to join the Xenomorph Legion! My body is strong enough to bear the greatness of the Xenomorphs! I want power to protect my family!”
The crowd grew larger. When Duncan showed no reaction, and the Xenomorphs flickering in and out of sight near the tower didn’t attack anyone beyond a hundred meters, the gathering became bolder, their shouts growing fervent. Before long, the police arrived, setting up barricades.
“These idiots… If we weren’t holding them back, they’d charge in and get torn apart by Xenomorphs,” one officer muttered in frustration.
Newly promoted Commissioner George Stacy spoke in a grave tone. “They’re terrified. They’re seeking safety. And in all of New York, where could be safer than here? Even the man who defeated Magneto is one of Duncan’s people. Magneto himself is building a base for Duncan.”
That was right—George Stacy had been promoted again. The previous commissioner had perished in the Battle of Westchester, his remains obliterated. After only two months as deputy commissioner, George Stacy had no choice but to take the reins, mourning his predecessor as he stepped up.
“This world is insane,” a fellow officer scoffed. “Two people destroyed Westchester, and now one’s a wanted criminal while the other’s a hero.”
“So what do we do? What if Duncan really starts recruiting from these people?”
George Stacy found himself in a difficult position. He knew the truth—that Duncan had been capturing vampires and sending them to alien battlefields. It was an utterly insane operation. If Duncan were truly to recruit from ordinary people, there was little doubt they would be sent off to fight extraterrestrial wars as well.
At the top floor of the skyscraper, Duncan gazed at the rising sun.
“Reynolds, stop flying around. I can hear those poor souls shouting themselves hoarse down there.” He pointed at the sun. “Do you feel anything… special?”
“I feel ecstatic, as long as they’re cheering and chanting.” Reynolds entirely missed Duncan’s point, too fixated on basking in the crowd’s adoration.
If the public ignored him, Reynolds would grow sullen and angry. He craved their approval—a man obsessed with his popularity rating.
Duncan didn’t mind this quirk. Such trivial habits were acceptable. Instead, he turned his attention to Erika.
“I know you’ve been in contact with the people of Kamar-Taj. Don’t get too close to them. However, when it comes to hunting down dark sorcerers, cooperation is acceptable. Anyone who offends us should either be eliminated or brought into our fold. But dark sorcerers are unfit to become hosts.”
The thought of Kaecilius crossed Duncan’s mind—a loose end that needed tying up. Now was the perfect opportunity.
“Kaecilius paid a price—one that black magic can’t repair. When you find him, Erika, I’ll send Reynolds to assist you. Make sure that dog of dark magic is put down.”
His gaze lingered on Erika’s slowly regenerating shoulder—proof that fighting dark sorcerers always carried greater risks.
“I can go now! I have super speed—” Reynolds practically vibrated with excitement, eager to find enemies and bask in the adoration of the masses.
Whenever he opened his super-hearing, he could hear countless prayers—mostly from those who had lost loved ones in Westchester.
Tens of thousands of deaths had plunged the city into prolonged grief and fear.
Now was the time for the great Sentry to descend in golden light and bring solace to the people—or so Reynolds believed.
Especially since Duncan, the master he followed, was remarkably tolerant of his whims. The lack of reprimands only fed Reynolds’s confidence.
Duncan glanced at him. “Don’t go alone. With your intelligence, Kaecilius would banish you in an instant. Your fighting style is no secret.”
“What about the fanatics outside? They crave your power. They seek protection,” Erika said.
Mr. Blue—who had been silently flipping through experimental data—looked up.
“Hand them over to me. I could use them for live experiments. There are many projects they could contribute to… such as embryo extraction.”
Duncan ignored him.
“They’re not worth the trouble. If shouting a few slogans were enough to gain power, that power would be far too cheap. This area used to be an abandoned industrial zone. Those willing to settle here will naturally receive protection. Who knows? In a few years, this place could become a thriving new district—the strongest, safest community.”
Common citizens weren’t on Duncan’s radar. Why waste time on them when vampires made far better hosts?
Xenomorph drones spawned from humans were nothing remarkable—barely stronger than the average messenger Xenomorph. They would serve as cannon fodder in Asgard at best.
Unless the world’s destruction was imminent, and he needed an army to feed into the meat grinder, they were of little use.
Still, Duncan was mildly surprised by his rising popularity. He had never courted public favor, yet his relentless actions had earned him widespread devotion.
It seemed that no matter the world, power always commanded followers.
“The base is complete. It’s time to settle Stryker—I did promise Professor X.”
With a mere thought, a swift Xenomorph dashed into view.
“Stearns, you’ll stay behind. Finish Weyland Corporation’s research and register the patents. We can’t keep patching things together—we need to establish Weyland as a legitimate operation.”
“You’re serious?” Mr. Blue’s expression turned strange. “I always thought Weyland was just a cover to claim territory while you were still weak.”
Duncan didn’t bother responding. Blue’s guess wasn’t entirely wrong.
Suddenly, Duncan’s expression shifted—he sensed something. His eyes flicked southward, intrigued.
“What is it? Did one of the Xenomorphs catch your attention?”
“No… just a little incident in South America. Nothing to worry about.”
In the next second, the Hyper-Speed Xenomorph swiftly began transporting troops, delivering Duncan’s forces to their destination.
Alkali Lake.
Stryker sat calmly in his chair, watching the surveillance monitors display the Xenomorph attack on his base. His face remained expressionless, completely unmoved.
“Send out all soldiers to stop them. If they can’t hold a position, detonate the bombs. Kill as many as possible.” Stryker issued the cruel order with complete indifference, sending over two hundred soldiers to their deaths.
He knew it was futile—but so what? Besides, he had more than just regular soldiers. He had a group of enslaved mutants.
The Xenomorphs showed no mercy to ordinary soldiers, striking with overwhelming force. But when it came to mutants, they were far more restrained, taking extra time to ensure they were captured alive.
Under normal circumstances, Stryker might have been able to hold out for a few dozen minutes. However, with the Sentry and Hyper-Speed Xenomorph tearing through defenses, it took only two minutes for Duncan to reach him.
“A spectacular battle, Duncan. Seeing your power firsthand, I finally understand why others fear you so much.”
Stryker clapped his hands as he gazed at the straight path the Sentry had punched through the facility.
Duncan walked in with a serene expression, glancing around the laboratory filled with mutant specimens and Xenomorph organs before turning his gaze to Stryker.
“You think you’re the protagonist of some grand film? Trying to deliver a dramatic final speech before your death? Should I record it for you?”
Swish!
From the ceiling, a female mutant in a black leather suit suddenly leaped down, her elongated claws gleaming as they slashed toward Duncan’s throat.
Duncan didn’t even flinch.
Reynolds stepped forward in an instant, intercepting her with a punch meant to reduce her to pulp—only to be shocked when he merely shattered her flesh and sent her flying.
“X-23… like Wolverine, she has Adamantium implanted in her body.” Duncan took a brief glance and ordered, “Capture her.”
Reynolds became a blur, slamming into X-23 and crashing through multiple walls.
Stryker smirked as he watched the Xenomorphs capture the mutants.
“I must say, I’m pleased. You’re fulfilling my life’s work. My dream will come true through you.”
The sight of mutants being turned into Xenomorph hosts filled him with twisted delight.
Duncan shook his head.
“Have you ever considered… that I don’t need to let the Xenomorphs burst out of their hosts? That I can let the mutants live, reproduce, and thrive?”
“No! You can’t do that!”
Stryker’s face twisted in fury. He lunged at Duncan—only to be impaled midair by a Xenomorph’s tail, hoisted up like a ragdoll.
“Pathetic.”
Duncan stared at him coldly.
“Did you think you could manipulate me into craving mutant hosts? It’s a clever idea… but you won’t live to see the outcome.”
Stryker gasped, mouth agape, desperate to speak—but in the next moment, a Xenomorph twisted his head clean off.
Duncan didn’t even consider Stryker important enough to kill personally. His death was merely a side note.
Explosions rumbled throughout the facility. The dam was collapsing.
By the time the Xenomorphs finished wiping out the soldiers and capturing the mutants, Reynolds returned, carrying an unconscious X-23.
“This woman is something else. I couldn’t even break her bones. I had to knock her out by hitting her head.”
“She wouldn’t have died anyway. Adamantium bones can heal themselves.”
Beta-grade Adamantium.
That was how strong it was.
X-23 was essentially a superior version of Wolverine.
At that moment, the dam finally gave way.
A torrent of water surged forth, an unstoppable force of nature.
By the time Magneto and his group arrived, they were met with the sight of an apocalyptic flood, a roaring deluge consuming everything in its path.
“What the hell happened? Are we sure this is the place? Stryker’s base is gone?” Wolverine pulled out his cigar, his face full of disbelief.
Xavier, still recovering from his psychic strain, slowly spoke:
“It was Duncan. I can feel him. And his Xenomorph army.”
“Professor, don’t push yourself!”
“I’ll be fine, Jean. This level of telepathic exertion won’t hurt me.”
Hope flickered in Xavier’s eyes.
“I can also sense many young mutant minds… They’re terrified. We must rescue them.”
Magneto, however, cut in sharply:
“No need. That bastard already took them.”
And so, as Duncan and the mutants clashed once more—
Far away, deep in the South American rainforest…
Coulson had finally found his target.
With a team of highly trained agents behind him, he smiled at the young man before him.
His eyes, however, were drawn to the Xenomorph at the youth’s side.
That only made Coulson’s smile widen.
“It seems… you’ve established a psychic link with the Xenomorphs in the rainforest. A very dangerous move.
But don’t worry.
We can help you.”
