Deep within the C.I.A office aboard the Navy vessel, a different scene was taking shape.

Mystique, having assumed the guise of Vice Admiral Grant, occupied a place at the high-ranking table. She sat amidst unsuspecting Navy officers, their attention focused on the unfolding spectacle of the C.I.A drama that was being broadcast right in front of their eyes in real-time.

In the midst of this tension, Agent Stryker stood out like a storm amidst a calm sea. He brought his fists down onto the table and said, "Do you even comprehend the gravity of the situation? These aren't mere people. They are walking, talking weapons. If we can't keep them under our control, they must be silenced."

Agent Moira sneered and replied, "Can you even hear yourself, Agent Stryker? You're reducing children, mere teenagers, to the status of non-entities, branding them as 'living weapons'. So, by your logic, they should be confined, or worse, killed?"

Stryker merely nodded as he replied, "Exactly!"

Moira was outraged and she shouted, "Then, aren't we denying them their basic rights? Reducing them to mere animals rather than recognizing them as humans?"

Stryker smirked at Moira's words and said, "You're mistaken on two counts, Agent Moira," he countered, lifting two fingers to punctuate his points. "Firstly, they're not humans, they're mutants. And secondly..." His smirk deepened into something altogether more sinister as he continued, "... mutants have no rights."

Just as Stryker finished his chilling proclamation, the tranquility of the moment was shattered. A deafening explosion erupted, its tremors violently shaking the Navy vessel from bow to stern. Navy officers, soldiers, and C.I.A agents alike clung to their seats, fighting to maintain their balance amidst the convulsions. The ship rocked like a toy in a tempest, but then, after a few harrowing seconds, the shaking ceased.

Stryker swiftly wiped away beads of nervous sweat from his brow, glancing around the room. A quick assessment revealed a sea of uneasy faces, each reflecting the fear and uncertainty of the moment. A sly smile found its way onto his lips as a thought crystallized in his mind, 'This is my chance!'

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Rising from his seat with the poise of a seasoned leader, he seized the moment as he said, "Look around, everyone! Can mere humans cause such upheaval? No! This is the work of mutants alone! They hold the power to dismantle our families, to reduce our cities to rubble. Yet, we can put a stop to it!" He gestured dramatically toward a large red button perched on a nearby panel, "All it takes is a simple press of this button."

Mystique's eyes narrowed as she studied Agent Stryker, her mind teeming with concern. 'This guy is evil! I can see in his eyes how much he hates mutants. I have to stop him before he causes anything harmful.' With a purposeful clearing of her throat, she drew all eyes to her, holding Stryker's gaze as she began to speak, "If I may, Agent Stryker, I'd like to present my perspective."

Upon receiving his nod of consent, Mystique said, "With all due respect, Agent Stryker, you are an idiot."

Stryker, visibly taken aback by her words, sprung to his feet, ready to fire back. But Mystique didn't relent, cutting him off before he could utter a word. "Yes, there exist mutants with the potential to devastate cities," she conceded, "Yet, you overlook the fact that they are a mere handful."

All eyes swiveled to Agent Stryker at the end of Mystique's words. A hint of shame flickered across Stryker's face as he regained his composure, sinking back into his seat. At his subtle admission of defeat, Mystique's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. She was not done just yet.

"The majority of the mutants highlighted in your case files," she continued emphasizing, "are, in fact, children."

With that, she stared right into Stryker's eyes and continued, "I feel I should reiterate this for your benefit, Agent Stryker. These are underage children. Many are either orphans or live with a single parent. Rarely, they are raised in a two-parent home."

She paused, letting the bleak reality of her words settle in, "Often, they are cast out by their own families, deemed too strange, too dangerous. Or worse, they run away from their homes in terror, fearing for their own safety."

Mystique glanced around the table and said, "Instead of of plotting how to kill these children brainlessly, shouldn't we be exploring ways to establish meaningful, beneficial connections with them?"

Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table, prompting a satisfied smile from Mystique. She continued, "Imagine if these children were welcomed into the C.I.A, provided with proper guidance and training, and treated with respect and fairness. Why wouldn't they then come to our aid when the need arises?"

Her eyes flicked to Agent Stryker, who was practically seething, his fists clenched tight in silent fury. A hint of a smirk touched her lips as she shared a knowing glance with Agent Moira, their nods of agreement subtly reinforcing their united front.

The C.I.A director stroked his chin, seemingly deep in thought. The room waited in hushed anticipation until, after a few moments of contemplation, he broke the silence. "Well, it appears we have another topic to debate!", he announced.