Chapter 64: Hydra Elimination
Black Noir stood atop a Hydra facility, his presence ghost-like, completely unnoticed despite the midday sun.
Even as he positioned himself directly behind workers, passing only inches away, they continued their tasks, oblivious.
Noir's ability to blend into the background using his chi, even in broad daylight, was eerie—a shadow in the light, silent and undetectable.
For hours, he had been gathering intelligence, silently cataloging the names and habits of all 27 workers in the facility.
It wasn't a large facility, but it held something precious to Hydra: several super-soldiers, created by them, frozen in stasis.
Each piece of intel was carefully noted in Noir's mind, nothing escaped his attention.
As he finished his observations he depqrted to the nearest vought favility in order to await further intructions.
Though on the way his gaze shifted to a Tv in a barber shop, catching Homelander's speech as it was being broadcast.
A faint, nearly imperceptible smile formed beneath Noir's mask.
It wasn't much, but it was there—a small acknowledgment of his creator.
The speech ended, and almost as if on cue, a transmission came through directly from Homelander.
A simple sentence, but clear in its intent: "Eliminate all. Use V."
Noir gave a metaphorical nod. No questions, no hesitation.
He understood the command perfectly. It was time to act.
He silently made his way back to the facility, picking up a small suitcase hidden in the shadows as he did.
Inside the facility, the workers were busy, their attention focused on their latest victim, some poor soul being brainwashed through torturous means. None of them noticed as Noir entered.
Click.
He pressed a button on his chest, and the suitcase unfolded, enveloping him in a sleek, metallic suit.
This was the Mark V, a specialized suit designed for the task at hand.
Without a sound, Noir initiated the operation.
The first step: kill the power. The entire facility plunged into darkness, sealing every exit.
The workers panicked, but it was too late.
Noir moved like a wraith, his steps calm and methodical.
The first scientist didn't even scream as Noir's magnetic claws, designed on the same concept as Ultron's vibranium slicers, tore through his torso, shredding him to pieces.
Blood sprayed, but Noir didn't flinch.
He didn't leave the corpse immediately. Instead, he raised his hand, shaping it like a gun, and aimed at the scientist's forehead.
A small arrow shot from his wrist, striking dead center on the forehead.
It was a memory extractor—another piece of technology newly made for Noir's mission.
He gathered the scientist's final thoughts, absorbing the data to ensure no secrets remained hidden.
Moving on, Noir continued his work, testing the suit with precision just like he was instructed.
He used the weight of the Mark V to crush one scientist underfoot, testing how quickly the suit could kill through pressure.
Another fell as he manipulated the magnetic fields within the room, reversing their blood flow until they collapsed in agony.
Noir's actions were swift, merciless. The Hydra facility had no chance.
One by one, the workers were eradicated, each death serving as another test of the Mark V's capabilities.
It could slice, crush, manipulate, and control—the perfect tool for a silent assassin.
Finally, when the last worker had fallen, the suit powered down, retracting itself back into the suitcase with a soft mechanical hum.
A voice from within the suit stated calmly:
"Mark V testing successful."
Black Noir stood in the aftermath, surrounded by the wreckage of Hydra's ambitions.
His mission was complete, and without a word, he vanished into the shadows once more.
The team of Vought cleaners already coming to take away all ths auper soldiers.
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[IMAGE OF MARK V]
Across the globe, Hydra facilities tied to the super-soldier experiments were simultaneously struck with deadly precision. Vought's elite assassins, all outfitted in the Mark V suits, moved like shadows. The suits, modeled after Black Noir's own abilities, carried with them more than just technological superiority. Mystical symbols, etched into the armor, enhanced the wearers with occult powers—stealth beyond human capacity, strength that rivaled the strongest mutants, and the ability to bend the very air around them to mask their movements. Each assassin performed their tasks with chilling efficiency, leaving behind nothing but carnage and silence.
The Mark V's design allowed each assassin to strike undetected, neutralizing entire facilities in minutes. It was as though they had vanished before Hydra could even react. The mission was a success, though not without one notable casualty: the suit, not the assassin. The suits were as essential as the mission itself; their durability was unmatched, yet one malfunctioned catastrophically, forcing the wearer to self-destruct in the heart of the facility. But even that was insignificant in Homelander's eyes. The lives of those chosen to carry out such tasks were inconsequential. Disposable.
After all, Homelander had a special way to handle the worst of society. Pedophiles, especially. If anything, those failures served another, darker purpose in his plans.
As Niklaus, read through the report detailing the final hits, a grim satisfaction settled over him.
The super-soldier experiments were in ruins, and Hydra's reach had been cut down to size. But his attention quickly shifted to the room before him.
Magneto sat across from him, having just finished his meal, looking as regal and defiant as ever.
Homelander knew what was at stake here.
Erik Lehnsherr was no mere mutant—he was a leader, a symbol of rebellion and pride for his kind.
Niklaus rose up from his seat.
He adjusted his uniform, his eyes gleaming with the distinct careless look.
He took a few confident steps toward Magneto before speaking in a tone that blended both grandeur and menace.
"You know, Erik," Homelander began, his voice almost playful, "I've been watching you for a while now. You talk a big game about mutantkind, about their future. And I admire that. I really do. Fighting for something bigger than yourself? That's something I can respect."
Magneto's eyes narrowed, sensing there was more beneath Homelander's words.
"But let's be honest, Erik. Mutants—they're flawed. Most of them are born with powers that either hurt them or make them weak. Failed evolutions. How many mutants have you seen whose powers destroy their own bodies? Or worse—fail them at the wrong moment? It's messy. Inefficient." Homelander's tone turned sharp, his piercing gaze cutting through the moment.
Magneto didn't flinch. "Mutants are still the future of this world. We are the next step in evolution. Imperfect or not."
"Maybe," Homelander countered, stepping even closer. "But what if I told you I can help you perfect that future? Evolve your kind to the next level. No more failed evolutions. No more mutants hurting themselves with their own abilities. Stronger, faster, better."
He extended his hand, revealing a vial of blue liquid—Compound V. The key to everything. , a charismatic smile spreading across his face as he held the vial of Compound V in his hand.
"You know, Erik," he began, his voice smooth but laced with a calculated undertone,
"I've also been thinking about this whole... mutantkind thing you've got going on. The struggle. The survival. The idea that you're the next step in human evolution."
Magneto's eyes narrowed but he remained silent. Homelander continued, his voice growing more pointed.
"Here's the thing, Erik," he said, slowly pacing the room, "I know you like to think that you and the mutants are different, that you're something more than human. But... you're not. Not really. You're still human. Better humans, sure. But humans all the same."
Magneto raised a brow, his expression hardening. "We are the next evolution," he replied, his tone firm. "Our abilities separate us from them."
Homelander stopped, turning to face him directly. "Abilities, sure. But you're still part of the same species. You bleed like them. You can die like them. Mutants... these boundaries they're just a metaphor, Erik. And metaphors don't win wars. They don't change anything. But Compound V? That changes everything."
He held up the vial, the blue liquid glowing faintly. Magneto's gaze flicked to it, suspicion clouding his thoughts.
"Listen, Erik," Homelander continued, "Understand the science. What happens when an active X-gene comes into contact with Compound V?"
" It doesn't simply makes mutants stronger. It locks that gene. Securing it. So strong, in fact, that the chances of your children not being mutants? Of them being weaker than you? They're in the negative. You're not just making mutantkind perfect, Erik."
" You're making sure there's no going back. No more weak fragile humans... only a perfect race."
"This," Homelander said, his voice filled with the promise of power, "will push mutantkind past their weaknesses."
"Imagine a world where mutants are perfected—no limits, no failures, no weaknesses. But there's one catch." He let his words linger, as the weight of the proposition sunk in.
Magneto's eyes flicked to the vial, then back to Homelander.
"I don't do this for free," Homelander continued. "You and every mutant who takes this will submit to me. No questions. No debates. I call the shots, I lead, and you follow. That's the deal. In exchange, I'll give you a perfected race"
The room went silent as Homelander's words hung in the air, a grand proposition laid bare.
Magneto's face remained unreadable, though the weight of the decision was clear.
Would he bend the knee for the promise of ultimate evolution? Or would he resist and face Homelander's wrath?
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A/N
The situation at Tirupati is honestly making my blood boil We should've never let the government take over the temples.
Stones and Reviews please
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