First Blade stood at the panoramic window of his new office, overlooking the sprawling metropolis below. The view from the top floor of the Superhuman Bureau headquarters was breathtaking, but he allowed himself only a moment to appreciate it. There was work to be done.

He turned, his white mask reflecting the early morning sunlight. The mask, a symbol of his position and loyalty to High Chancellor Voss, was both a shield and a reminder. It protected his identity and kept his emotions hidden, crucial for the tasks ahead.

The office itself was a stark contrast to its previous occupant's. Gone were the personal touches, the photos, and the warm colors. In their place stood sleek, utilitarian furniture, holographic displays, and a large, imposing desk. This was not a place for sentiment; it was a command center for a new era.

First Blade activated the main holographic display with a gesture. Dossiers of the Bureau's top officials flickered into existence, each accompanied by a detailed assessment of their loyalty, competence, and replaceability. He had spent weeks compiling this information, preparing for this day.

A soft chime announced the arrival of his first appointment. Jacob Steele entered, his posture perfect, his eyes alert. First Blade nodded in approval. This was a man who understood the gravity of their mission.

"Jacob," First Blade spoke, his voice modulated by the mask. "Are the teams in position?"

"Yes, sir," Jacob replied crisply. "Operation Clean Sweep is ready to commence on your order."

First Blade allowed himself a small nod of satisfaction. "Excellent. Begin phase one."

As Jacob left to execute the order, First Blade turned his attention back to the holographic display. Across the city, carefully selected teams were moving into position. Years of planning were about to bear fruit.

The next hours were a whirlwind of activity. Reports flooded in as key personnel across the Bureau were simultaneously removed from their positions. Some went quietly, escorted out by security. Others required more... forceful persuasion. First Blade coordinated it all with cold efficiency, his mask hiding any trace of emotion.

By midday, the old guard of the Superhuman Bureau had been effectively neutralized. In their place, loyal operatives like Jacob were stepping into key roles. The transition was not without resistance, but it was swift and decisive.

First Blade's comm unit buzzed. "Sir, we have a situation in Sub-Level 3. Dr. Johnson is refusing to hand over his research files."

"I'll handle it personally," First Blade replied, already moving towards the private elevator.

Sub-Level 3 housed the Bureau's most sensitive research facilities. As First Blade strode through the sterile corridors, he could feel the tension in the air. Scientists and technicians averted their eyes, fear radiating off them in waves.

He found Dr. Johnson in his lab, frantically trying to delete files from his computer. The elderly scientist looked up as First Blade entered, his eyes wide with panic.

"You can't do this!" Johnson shouted, his voice cracking. "My work... you don't understand the implications!"

First Blade approached calmly, his mask betraying nothing. "Dr. Johnson, your work now belongs to the Bureau. To humanity. Surely you understand the necessity of our actions?"

Johnson's face contorted with rage and fear. "Necessity? You're talking about weaponizing my research! I was trying to help superhumans, not destroy them!"

With a sigh that was more for show than genuine sentiment, First Blade reached out. His hand closed around Johnson's throat, lifting the frail scientist off his feet with inhuman strength.

"Your noble intentions are noted, Doctor," First Blade said, his modulated voice chillingly calm. "But the time for half-measures is over."

Without hesitation, First Blade's grip tightened. The sickening crunch of cartilage and bone filled the lab as Johnson's eyes bulged in shock and pain. Within moments, the scientist's struggles ceased, his body going limp.

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First Blade dropped the corpse unceremoniously to the floor. He tapped his comm unit. "Jacob, send a clean-up team to Dr. Johnson's lab. And have his files secured immediately."

As he left the lab, First Blade reflected on the day's events. The purge of the Superhuman Bureau had been thorough and varied in its execution.

In the Communications Department, Director Sarah had seen the writing on the wall. When First Blade's team arrived, she was already packing her personal items. "I suppose resistance is futile," she had said with a bitter smile. "Just... take care of my staff, will you? They're good people." She was escorted out quietly, her fate uncertain but likely unpleasant.

The Human Resources division proved more troublesome. Gerald Hoffman, a twenty-year veteran of the Bureau, had barricaded himself in his office. "You can't do this!" he had shouted through the door. "We have rights! There are procedures!" The tactical team sent to remove him didn't bother with negotiations. A breaching charge reduced the door to splinters, and Hoffman's protests were permanently silenced by a burst of gunfire.

In contrast, the Technology Division transitioned smoothly. Chief Engineer Marcus Wong, known for his brilliant mind and lack of ethical concerns, was more than happy to pledge allegiance to the new regime. "Finally," he had exclaimed, eyes gleaming with excitement, "we can push the boundaries without all that red tape. When do I start?"

The Legal Department required a more nuanced approach. First Blade personally visited the office of Head Counsel Amelia Richardson. Her reputation as a staunch defender of superhuman rights made her a potential threat.

"Ms. Richardson," First Blade had begun, his tone almost cordial. "Your services will no longer be required."

Richardson had met his gaze unflinchingly. "You can't simply dismantle our entire legal framework. The people won't stand for it."

First Blade's response was cold and final. "The legal framework, Ms. Richardson, is whatever we say it is now."

As Richardson was led away, her expression of defiance never wavered. First Blade made a mental note to monitor her closely in the future. She had too many connections to make her simply vanish without any repercussions.

Not all departures were violent or forced. In the Public Relations department, Deputy Director Michael Foster practically fell over himself in his eagerness to prove his loyalty to the new regime. "I've always admired Chancellor Voss's vision," he gushed, eyes darting nervously. "I can be very useful in shaping public opinion, you know." His obsequiousness was noted, as was his potential for manipulation.

By the end of the day, every department had been thoroughly purged. Loyal operatives now filled key positions, while those deemed potentially useful but untrustworthy were placed under close surveillance. The rest... well, the Bureau's incinerators worked overtime that night.

First Blade returned to his office, satisfaction coursing through him. He activated the secure communication channel to High Chancellor Voss.

Voss's holographic image appeared, his steely gaze as penetrating as ever. "How did the phase one go?" he asked.

"Operation Clean Sweep was a success, sir," First Blade said. "The Bureau is now under our full control. All key positions have been filled with our people. Research Division has been realigned to focus on containment and neutralization technologies."

Voss nodded, a rare smile crossing his face. "Excellent work, as always. And the new containment facilities?"

"Construction is ahead of schedule. The first units will be operational within the week. They're designed to hold even S-class superhumans, sir."

"Good," Voss replied. "We'll need them soon enough. The registration process is flushing out the low-level supers, but the real threats are still out there. Waiting. Planning."

First Blade straightened. "We'll be ready for them, sir. The Blades are overseeing all aspects of the operation, ensuring every department falls in line. The Superhuman Containment Unit is being expanded and retrained to handle even S-class threats."

"Excellent," Voss replied, his eyes gleaming with approval. "The Blades have always been the backbone of our cause. Your loyalty and efficiency continue to impress me."

First Blade inclined his head slightly at the rare praise. "Thank you, sir. We live to serve the cause."

"Indeed," Voss mused. "And serve you shall. Remember, First Blade, in the new world we're building, there's no room for misplaced compassion or mercy. The cause always comes first."

"Of course, sir," First Blade acknowledged. "What are your orders?"

Voss's eyes took on a dangerous light. "Prepare for Phase Two. It's time to let the world see the true face of the superhuman menace. And when they cry out for protection..."

"We'll be there to provide it," First Blade finished.

As the communication ended, First Blade turned back to the window. The city lights twinkled below, millions of people going about their lives, blissfully unaware of the storm that was coming.

He reached up, removing his mask for the first time that day. The face reflected in the window was younger than one might expect, handsome but for the long scar running from temple to jaw. His eyes, however, were old beyond their years, hardened by years of training and unwavering devotion to the cause.

First Blade allowed himself a small smile. The real work was just beginning. Soon, the world would be cleansed of the superhuman threat, and humanity would stand tall, masters of their own destiny once more.

He replaced his mask, the familiar weight settling comfortably. There was still much to do, and dawn would come all too soon. As one of Voss's elite Blades, he carried the weight of humanity's future on his shoulders. It was a burden he bore willingly, knowing that every decision, every action, brought them one step closer to their ultimate goal.

The Blade's edge must never dull, for the fate of humanity rested upon it.