Chancellor Adrian Voss stood before the imposing edifice of the newly renovated Superhuman Bureau, a gleaming monument to human ingenuity and determination. The building's sleek lines and reinforced structure were a far cry from the outdated facility it had replaced. It was a testament to how quickly things could change when one had the will—and the power—to make it happen.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Voss remarked to his First Blade, who stood silently at his side. "A fitting headquarters for our new era."

The First Blade nodded, his white mask reflecting the sunlight. "The renovations were completed ahead of schedule, sir. The new containment facilities are state-of-the-art."

Voss allowed himself a small smile. "Excellent. And the staff transition?"

"Complete. All superhuman sympathizers have been... removed from their positions. The new personnel are loyal to our cause."

"Good," Voss said, his voice cold. "Loyalty is everything in these trying times."

As they entered the building, Voss couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. The atrium buzzed with activity, filled with humans working diligently to monitor and control their "superhuman problem." Screens displayed real-time data on registered superhumans, their movements tracked like animals in a zoo.

Voss made his way to the command center, where his top advisors awaited. As he entered, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to him.

"Report," he commanded, taking his seat at the head of the table.

His head of intelligence, a sharp-eyed woman named Ava, spoke first. "Sir, we've detected increased chatter among unregistered superhumans. There are signs of an underground resistance forming."

Voss leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Details."

"Nothing concrete yet, but we've intercepted messages suggesting a meeting of high-level supers. We believe they're trying to organize a coordinated response to the registration act."

Voss's eyes narrowed. "And Dorsey?"

Ava's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Everything is proceeding as expected, sir. Our surveillance teams have been tracking his every move. He's making contact with various unregistered supers, just as we anticipated."

"Excellent," Voss nodded. "Keep monitoring him. He'll lead us right to the heart of this fledgling resistance."

As his advisors continued their reports, Voss turned his attention to the next item on the agenda. "What of our S-class containment plans?"

His chief scientist, Dr. Emerson, cleared his throat. "We've made progress, sir. The nullification fields are showing promise in lab tests. But containing an S-class superhuman in the field... it's still theoretical at best."

Voss's eyes hardened. "And our more... extreme options?"

Dr. Emerson shifted uncomfortably. "The tactical nuclear devices are ready, sir. As are the neurotoxin dispersal systems. But the collateral damage would be..."

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"Unfortunate, but necessary if the situation demands it," Voss cut him off. "I want all options on the table, Doctor. The future of humanity depends on it."

As the meeting concluded, Voss's communication officer approached, looking anxious. "Sir, we have a situation developing. A large group of unregistered superhumans is staging a protest in Central Square. They're demanding an end to the registration act and equal rights."

Voss's lip curled up in smile. This much was to be expected. "How many?"

"About two hundred supers, sir. Mostly C-class, including a few suspected B-class. With a couple thousand ordinary citizens joining them."

For a moment, Voss considered his options. This was the perfect opportunity to make an example, to show the world the consequences of defiance.

"First Blade," he called, and his loyal head of Superhuman Bureau appeared at his side. "Prepare a strike team. Full tactical gear and lethal force authorization. I want this handled publicly and decisively. Understood?"

The First Blade nodded and moved to carry out his orders.

Voss turned to his press secretary. "Get me on every news channel. It's time to address the world."

Within minutes, Voss stood before the cameras, his face a mask of stern resolve. Billions watched as he spoke, his words carefully crafted to stoke fear and resentment.

"My fellow citizens," he began, his voice grave. "At this very moment, a group of unregistered superhumans—beings with the power to level city blocks with a thought—are gathering in defiance of the law. They claim to want peace, yet they threaten our safety with their very existence."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

"I ask you: can we trust these individuals, these walking weapons, to police themselves? Can we afford to let them roam free, unchecked and unaccountable?"

As he spoke, live footage showed the protest in Central Square. The superhumans, many wearing masks to hide their identities, held signs and chanted slogans. They looked dangerous, unpredictable.

"Look at them," he continued, his voice rising with controlled passion. "They hide their faces, refusing to take responsibility for their actions. Each one of them is a potential catastrophe waiting to happen. One moment of anger, one lapse in control, and countless innocent lives could be lost."

Voss's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he prepared to deliver his masterstroke.

"Therefore, effective immediately, I am issuing an executive order. All superhumans refusing to register are to be stripped of their citizenship and human rights. They are to be considered enemies of the state, enemies of mankind, a clear and present danger to our society."

The crowd in the square erupted in chaos at the announcement. Voss watched with cold satisfaction as his planted agitator, disguised as a protester, unleashed a controlled burst of energy that shattered nearby windows and overturned vehicles.

"You see?" Voss said, his voice now tinged with righteous anger. "This is the threat we face every day. This is why we must take decisive action to protect ourselves from these unpredictable, dangerous beings."

As his strike team moved in, using extreme force to subdue the protesters, Voss delivered his final blow.

"To those superhumans who still refuse to register: know this. Your time is over. The age of unchecked power, of playing god among mortals, has come to an end. Register, comply, or face the full might of human justice. The choice is yours."

With that, he ended the broadcast, knowing he had just won a major victory in the court of public opinion. The protest was being crushed, and the narrative was firmly under his control.

As Voss returned to his office, he allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. The masses were falling in line, their fear and mistrust of superhumans growing by the day. Soon, even the mightiest of these "heroes" would find themselves without allies, without support.

And when that day came, Voss would be ready to strike the final blow.

The sun set over the city, casting long shadows across the streets. In the gathering darkness, the seeds of resistance were taking root, nurtured by fear and desperation. The storm Voss had set in motion was building, its full fury yet to be unleashed.

And at the eye of that storm stood Adrian Voss, the self-proclaimed savior of humanity, ready to do whatever it took to see his vision realized—no matter the cost.