The White Palace — Central War Room
Inside the highest seat of authority in the United States, every chair was occupied.
Senators, generals, intelligence chiefs, security advisors—the power elite of Arica.
If soone were to drop a bomb on this room right now, the entire governnt would collapse overnight. No exaggeration.
The last ti this many top officials had gathered… was the day Alex walked into the Pentagon and left a trail of bodies behind him.
And now—just months later—many of those sa faces were here again.
---
> "As of this morning, the death toll has surpassed 8,000.
Our police, military, FBI, CIA, and even private ard contractors have engaged these so-called 'UB6 units' seventy-nine tis.
Every encounter ended the sa—total annihilation.
Two entire carrier fleets have been wiped off the map.
Eight military bases destroyed.
And all of it… in just five days."
The grim report was delivered by a high-ranking official in uniform, seated directly beside the President.
Every sentence felt like another stone crushing the already suffocating silence in the room.
---
> "And as of now, the attacks haven't stopped. It's clear: unless we hand over the AllSpark, they will not let up."
The ntion of that ultimatum—gatron's demand—dropped over the conference like a guillotine.
---
"This is the situation we face."
President Smiles-a-Lot finally spoke. His tone was grim, commanding.
"We need options. All of them. Right now."
---
One of the first to speak was Director Hansen from the Intelligence Bureau.
"There's only one path left—
Find the AllSpark.
And hand it over."
That idea was imdiately echoed by a number of senior officials.
But just as quickly, a voice of dissent rose from the far end of the table.
---
"You're fools if you think handing over that cube will stop them."
It was the Director of Holand Security, voice sharp and cutting.
"These machines didn't just stumble onto Earth yesterday. gatron said it himself—they've been hiding here for years. Why?"
"And you seriously want to give them a device that can create more of them?"
The room fell quiet.
"You hand that thing over… and next ti, they won't just take out cities. They'll level the entire planet."
He wasn't wrong.
No one wanted to be the politician whose na was etched into history as the man who handed Earth to its conquerors.
---
"You're jumping to conclusions!" one senator snapped.
"We don't even know if they'll use the AllSpark that way. You're assuming the worst."
"That's the job," the Director shot back.
"We assu the worst so humanity doesn't end up dead."
---
And just like that, the room devolved into chaos.
Two camps. One demanding surrender. The other warning of annihilation.
Back and forth, shouting, accusations—until finally…
BANG!
A heavy fist struck the table.
"Enough!"
General Phillips, one of the last founders of S.H.I.E.L.D., stood from his chair.
---
"You're all wasting ti!" he thundered.
"You want to find the AllSpark? Great. Do any of you even know where to start?"
No one answered.
The silence was damning.
---
"General…" one of the defense leaders finally asked, confused,
"Didn't you say the AllSpark was taken by the Decepticons? Why is gatron still looking for it?"
Phillips shrugged. "Maybe there's more than one. Or maybe he lost it."
More confusion. More tension.
And then—inevitably—the bla ga began.
---
"This is your fault, Phillips!" a congressman barked.
"All of this is because of you people and your damn S.H.I.E.L.D. experints!"
The room once again erupted into shouting matches.
---
Until the President's voice cut through it all like a blade.
---
"Enough! Are we leaders of a nation or a group of schoolchildren?"
The shouting died.
---
"We will not hand our future over to aliens."
His words were sharp and final.
"Arica doesn't negotiate with terrorists—especially alien ones."
That drew a brief round of nods.
But the hard truth still lood: How do you fight sothing you can't even hurt?
---
One advisor finally said what many were thinking.
"Mr. President… if we're serious about fighting back, there's only one viable path left: nuclear options."
The room froze.
Even the President flinched.
But before anyone could reply…
---
"Not necessarily."
It was General Phillips again.
Voice quiet. Steady.
"We have… another option."
---
"Mutants."
The word hung in the air like a thunderclap.
---
A dozen different emotions surged across the room—disgust, hesitation, panic.
It was the last suggestion anyone wanted to hear.
---
"I know what you're all thinking," Phillips said.
"Yes, mutants are complicated. Yes, our history with them is ssy. But you've all seen what they can do."
"You've all heard what happened at our base."
He let the silence hang.
"One mutant—just one—killed four Decepticons and sent gatron running."
The room went still.
Everyone knew who he ant.
---
Alex.
Just hearing the na made a few of them visibly tense.
A few others went pale.
It was a na that had beco taboo in high-level etings.
---
"You're suggesting him?" one senator said with disbelief.
"After what he did to our governnt? To our people? And now you want to rely on him?"
"Our people are dying, senator."
Phillips slamd his hand on the table.
"We don't have the luxury of pride. We need results."
---
That shut them up.
Everyone in the room understood the logic.
They just didn't want to admit it out loud.
Letting mutants—that mutant—save them ant they owed him.
ant they'd have to change everything they'd done and said about mutantkind.
It was easier to pretend they still had a choice.
---
"Then it's settled."
The President rose to his feet.
"Charles Xavier has always wanted peace. We'll start with him. See what kind of support the X-n can offer."
"Phillips—get Howard Stark. I want a backchannel opened to Alex."
And with that, the decision was made.
---
The future of Earth now rested…
in the hands of the very people Arica had spent years trying to destroy.
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