In the dark office of Graydon Creed, he sat overlooking the night sky, fingers curling around the neck of a whiskey bottle. His office, perched high above the city, was silent, save for the hum of streetlights below and the faint crackling of the ice in his glass. He poured himself a drink, eyes narrowing as the amber liquid sloshed against the rim.

He had been defeated. Again.

The X-Cutioner had failed. The Friends of Humanity had been humiliated. And the one responsible? That damn mutant boy. Alamo. Once again, Duncan Nenni had stepped into the fray and walked away victorious, leaving Creed’s best men broken and scattered. And now, he was left nursing the bitter taste of failure.

Then, out of nowhere—a call.

Creed stared at the vibrating phone on his desk. He took it, pressing it to his ear.

“Hello, Trask.”

“Creed, everything not going good, I assume.”

Creed exhaled through his nose, swirling his glass. “We lost it, Trask. I lost the best of the FoH to that fucking mutant boy. Again.”

A brief pause. Then, Trask’s voice, smooth and calculating. “You want to get rid of him?”

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Creed’s grip tightened around the glass. “I want to kill him. Then the X-Men. Then every goddamn freak on this fucking Earth.”

“What if I offered you something better?”

Creed scoffed. “I don’t believe you, Trask. You offered Carl something, and he lost it.”

A soft chuckle on the other end. “Well, admittedly, it was a mistake on my part to put Denti in that armor. He wasn’t prepared. He let too much of his pride dictate how that went. He hurt people.”

Creed shrugged. “It happens. People get caught in the crossfire. More importantly, he didn’t kill any mutants.”

“Yes…”

Creed’s tone sharpened. “You betrayed us, Trask. You sent the Sapien League into Carraro… They weren’t authorized. They killed Carraro’s men. Then again, they also helped Captain America and the mutants.”

A long pause. Then, Trask spoke, voice measured. “Unfortunately, that was a mistake. The Leper Queen was weak. She made errors. And I didn’t count on the Avengers being there, just the X-Men and the kid.”

“The Avengers are supporting them now,” Creed snarled. “They’re not meant to do that! They’re humanity’s mightiest heroes! Not fuckin’ mutie lovers—”

“Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Creed,” Trask corrected. “I don’t think they fully support the mutants yet. Many Avengers have their own beef with them… Some more personal than others.”

“They’re not allies.”

“But they never have been.”

Trask’s voice dropped lower, more deliberate. “Now, back to what I called you for. I want to give you another opportunity. Another shot.”

“At what?”

“Vengeance.”

“Against?”

“Forget Alamo. He has nothing to do with this. I want to give you the opportunity to get rid of those you hate the most… Your parents.”

Graydon Creed’s expression darkened. His breath hitched, a cold fury settling in his chest. Then, a smirk curled his lips.

“I’d like that, Trask,” he murmured, swirling his whiskey. “I’d like that very much.”