Locke snapped out of his reverie at the sound of Jack’s voice and turned to look out the car window.
Standing before him was a twelve-story apartment building with yellowed, peeling paint.
He could worry about superpowers later.
Work came first.
Locke composed himself.
“Out of the car.”
*Thud.*
As Locke stepped out, the doors of the three black vans ahead slid open.
One by one, expressionless Sentinel Tactical officers—fully armed and specially trained to deal with mutants—stepped down to the pavement.
“Locke.”
“Brown.”
Locke looked at Brown, the Sentinel Tactical team captain walking over from the vans.
The New York branch of the Sentinel Secret Service had ten tactical squads in total, and Brown led one of them.
Just as every Sentinel agent preferred working with a familiar squad, Brown’s unit was Locke’s go-to team.
Brown was a former Marine who had joined the Sentinel Secret Service after his wife was killed in an accident caused by a mutant awakening.
He had sworn to eliminate every mutant to avenge her.
And she had been three months pregnant when she died.
Rifle in hand—an X-Energy Suppression Rifle specifically designed to counter mutants—Brown walked quickly up to Locke.
“Which floor?”
“Debbie.”
Locke had no interest in Brown’s personal vendetta against mutants.
Glancing at the crumbling apartment building, he looked at Debbie, who was walking up behind them.
“Do we have the suspect’s information?”
He wasn’t leading this operation.
He had been ready to clock out for the day when Debbie returned from a run to the District Attorney’s office and informed him that an informant had reported a mutant living in this building.
And so, Locke found himself working overtime.
After all, as a senior agent of the Sentinel Secret Service, slacking off on mutant apprehensions might make people question his commitment.
Debbie looked at Brown.
“Tenth floor, Apartment 1002.
The informant said—”
Before she could finish, Brown gave Locke an impatient nod.
Bloodlust gleaming in his eyes, he racked a round into his X-weapon and turned toward the twelve tactical officers waiting nearby.
“Tenth floor, 1002!”
“Copy that.”
“Go, go, go!”
As the saying goes, a team takes after its leader.
Brown had joined the Sentinel Secret Service because a mutant killed his pregnant wife, and most of his team members had similarly lost loved ones, directly or indirectly, to mutants.
In short order, Brown and his men pulled down their helmets designed to block psychic mutant attacks.
Brown led the charge into the building, followed closely by his twelve bloodthirsty officers.
Locke didn’t bother following them inside.
When arresting ordinary suspects, once the location was confirmed, tactical teams could just breach the door; if the suspect resisted, they could simply light them up.
But mutant suspects were a different story.
In short, capturing mutants required finesse.
“Boss.”
As Brown and his team breached the building, Jack walked over, carrying two metal briefcases he had pulled from the trunk.
Debbie reached out and took one of the cases.
Jack then hurried toward the back of the apartment building with the other.
Debbie squatted down and opened her briefcase.
Inside rested a metallic rod resembling a power cell, its hollow center filled with a glowing blue liquid.
An X-Energy Suppression Rod—the ultimate tool used by the Sentinel Secret Service to capture mutants.
Bar none.
Once activated, the suppression rod emitted an area-of-effect field that negated the powers of any mutant caught inside it.
Of course, these portable suppression rods had their limits; they could only suppress mutants below Gamma-level.
Still, Gamma-level mutants were rare.
Beta-levels like Wolverine and Alpha-levels like Professor X were even rarer, practically mythical.
The vast majority of known mutants fell below the Gamma threshold.
Most of these low-tier mutants had mediocre powers they couldn’t even properly control, making them the primary cause of social unrest.
Naturally, they were the main targets of the Sentinel Secret Service.
Debbie promptly lifted the suppression rod out of the case, flicked her wrist to extend it into a long metallic pole, and drove it deep into the ground like a spike.
*Hum.*
As the glowing blue liquid rose through its center, a diamond sphere at the top of the rod hummed to life and glowed blue.
Meanwhile, Jack, who had reached the back entrance, slammed his suppressor into the dirt as well.
*Thump.*
Once the two suppressors connected, a wave of deep blue light rippled out from their tips like ripples across a pond.
Seeing this, Locke tapped his ear communicator and radioed Brown inside the building.
“We’re good to go.”
“Copy,” came Brown’s low, bloodthirsty voice through the earpiece.
It was clear Brown deeply loved his late wife—so much so that he wanted every mutant dead to join her in the grave.
However…
none of that was Locke’s concern.
He had no personal interest in killing mutants.
That was the honest truth.
Although he earned Extraordinary Points by killing extraordinary beings, his experiments had proven that he didn’t need to deliver the blow himself.
Brown was his teammate.
From a game logic perspective, a kill by Brown counted as a kill for Locke.
*You do the killing, I get the points.
A bright future for everyone.*
This was precisely why Locke preferred working with Brown’s team.
Other tactical squads would try to take mutants alive whenever possible.
And live captures…
yielded zero Extraordinary Points.
Hands in his pockets, Locke looked up at the tenth floor of the apartment building, quietly waiting for the system notification confirming the kill and awarding his points.
“By the way,” Locke asked out of the corner of his eye, glancing at Debbie next to him, “did your informant mention what kind of mutant power this guy has?”
Debbie recalled the report.
“Nothing specific, but the guy said he saw Lindsay Perrin get mugged yesterday.
Lindsay took three bullets, and the guy thought he was dead.
But today he bumped into Lindsay alive and kicking, so he figured he had to be a mutant.”
Shot three times and back on his feet the next day?
Immortality?
Rapid healing?
*Copying that power wouldn’t be half bad,* Locke thought.
“Your informant saw Lindsay Perrin get shot?”
“Yeah.”
“He was there yesterday?”
“Yep.” Debbie nodded and looked at Locke.
“He was the mugger who shot him.
He made a deal with us: he turns in a mutant, and we help him get a non-prosecution agreement with the DA.”
Locke: “…”