[Six years prior]

[i]-My name is Izzy, and all I ever wanted was peace.-[/i]

This was the moment he had worked for. For the past few months, Izzy had struggled to get a speaking position at the Mutant Registration Act hearing. When he was finally granted, he worked day and night on a speech that would linger in the minds of even the most firm anti-mutant protesters. He couldn't help the jitters he felt as his name was announced, cuing him to go up on that stage and change minds. Izzy glanced back at his friends, the ones that were brave enough to accompany him here. There was Isa, who had yellow-green scales growing over her entire body. John, whose body could leak acidic fluids from its skin at will. Joann, who could control emotions. And finally, Terry, who was fairly normal. They all gave him smiles of encouragement.

"Well, get up there already," John said with a chuckle. Izzy smiled back and nodded. He turned and made his way onto the stage, all business now. He stopped at the podium, suddenly painfully aware of just how many people were here, and now staring at him. He felt hot and uncomfortable. Izzy reached down to his notes and straightened them nervously. His mouth was dry as sand. Then, suddenly, his anxiety was gone. Izzy glanced at Joann, who gave him a smirk. He knew there was a reason he brought her here today. With confidence, Izzy turned back to the crowd. 

"People call me radical, rash, insane, even. They say that a human sympathizing with mutants is illogical; treacherous. But I must ask you, who is the real traitor here? What you propose to do today is against everything we have fought for in the past: freedom, equality, hope. Labeling each and every mutant as a criminal before a crime has even been committed is radical. Treating them like monsters is rash. Killing and out casting them is insane. These could be your sons, your daughters, wives, parents, [i]you[/i]. The times we face ahead will be tough, yes, and there [i]will[/i] be bad mutants. But is that to say that all of them are bad?" 

As Izzy spoke, he never even noticed the red dot appear on his chest, right above his heart. Before anyone could stop it, the shot was taken. Izzy was blown off his feet, a gaping hole in his chest. People screamed and chaos began. His friends tried to make a run onto the stage, only to be stopped by security. Police appeared out of nowhere and quickly gathered his bleeding, twitching form. Something wasn't right, but no one could stop it. No one could have known. 

[center]=====================Six years later.=======================[/center]

[i]-My name is 32, and all I have are orders.-[/i]

[One week prior]

The sound of the engines was deafening. The men in the plane shifted restlessly, except for one. 32 sat on the bench, his back bent and arms rested on his knees as he looked blankly at the floor. He was doing what he did before every assignment: plan. The files were vague, leaving plenty of room for error. The facility was researching a way to bring the x-genes out in every human. They claimed that mutants were the next step in evolution, and that they could find a way to let everyone take that step forward. They could stop the impending war. FOH didn't want that. 

The lab was located a few miles outside a small town in Greenland. With the autumn snow, the only way to excess the site was by air. 32 and three other men were dressed in [url=https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT2BMdJcouXzVEbDWd0ch2gYIkL31oeZ8nOMJG3N2Ih8XpddsHg]winter camo[/url]. Three were bundled up in fur and coats underneath, while 32 only wore the field jacket. He couldn't freeze, and he couldn't afford to be slowed down. The other men were just there to keep the perimeter secure, to shoot down anyone who made it outside. 32 was the only one going in. 

He'd been given the mission a week back: track down Linda Campbell, the head scientist working on Project: Evolve, and bring her in. Alive. 32 had tracked her movements across the US, only to find that the base of operations wasn't even in the country. Her latest flight to Greenland led them straight to the lab, and into his next mission: kill everyone inside, and bring Campbell back. The information inside the facility would be very useful to FOH in the future. They could create their own super army, trained to follow their every beck and whim. As 32's handler had always said: The best kind of mutant is the kind you control. His handler sat a few seats down from him, only there to make sure he didn't go AWOL while overseas. In the frozen forest, he would be impossible to re-capture. 

"Alright men, haul out!" A man barked at them. The three scout shooters got up, steeled their nerves, and jumped to parachute into the forest. 32 followed after them, making no hesitation before stepping out of the plane. The men were forced to pull their chutes before the plane was even close, to avoid drawing attention. 32, on the other hand, could afford to wait. By the time he pulled his parachute, the ground was rapidly approaching. He landed on his feet with a hard thud that would have shattered the legs of a regular man. He dropped the white chute and left it there in the snow as he trudged towards the building. A light snow was falling, barely concealing him.

It didn't take him long to break in. The security was depressingly lacking. 32 had his knife ready as he stalked the halls; the element of surprise was essential. As he turned a corner, he saw a man in a white coat walking with his back turned. 32 crept up behind him, silent as ever, and clapped a hand over his mouth. A blade was shoved through the man's back before he could even scream. The scientist dropped, and 32 made his way forward. After a few more kills, he knew his time was running out. Someone was bound to find a body. And no sooner did this thought cross his mind that the alarm went off. 

"Code red, repeat, code red. There is an intruder on level 3." 32 cursed and sheathed his bloodied knife. His hands went for his gun, instead. The sleek metal of the K31 was cool in his hands. As he rounded the corner, three security guards came running towards him. Three shots, three dead men. 32 stepped over them, hurrying now. More security was pouring from the wood works. Three more dead men. 32 turned a corner and pressed his back up against the wall to reload, then stepped back into action. Four dead men. Two dead men. Reload. After tearing through every office, every cubicle, every corner, he finally found Campbell. She was cornered in her office, a pistol in her hand.

"Come any closer and I'll shoot!" She threatened in a shaken voice, her hand trembling. 32 remained silent as he stormed in, gun raised. She fired, hitting him in the face. Pain blossomed in his right eye and forehead. Blood began to leak through his grey mask, but he didn't stop. She fired again, but missed as she dodged his incoming arm. The woman crawled under her desk and tried to run from the room, but 32 was fast. The butt of his gun came down on her head, knocking her out cold. The killer grabbed up the woman's limp form and tossed her over his shoulder. 32 continued on, his work not quite done. 

It had been requested that he search for the formula while he was there. 32 had no idea where to even start, but he knew that [i]someone[/i] would. "Where is it?!" He demanded the cornered man, who was trembling in his lab coat. 
"W-where's what?" The man was hunkered down, arms up protectively. He had no weapons, no defense. 
"The formula." 32 raised his gun. "Where is it?" 
"I-I don't-" A bullet whizzed so close to the man's ear that it could have cut hairs. The scientist yelped. "In the basement! Sector B! Please don't kill me I have a fam-" The man was cut off by a bullet in his head. 32 turned and quickly made his way downstairs. It didn't take long to find the lab, but it looked like someone had beat him to it. Flames and smoke were engulfing the entire lower floor, a failsafe in case the facility was found. 32 cursed and turned to make his way up the stairs, back on the original mission. The small plane was waiting for him on the runway. He climbed on and unceremoniously dumped Campbell onto the floor. Two men scrambled to secure her. The third had apparently been shot by a fleeing guard. 32 couldn't say he was too terribly upset. 

He sat down and pulled off his mask, a blood stain on his fully healed face. His handler gave him an approving nod, but offered no more reward. The plane took off, headed back for the States. It was a long, uncomfortable flight. The moment the woman woke up, she began talking and yelling and making the 'bring her in alive' portion of 32's mission harder by the second. His head was starting to hurt; his mind hadn't been reset for over a week. The shot to the head was jarring strange memories. 32 bent over and rested his elbows on his knees, his hands pushing through his short hair. Memories of other missions. He remembered the yelling, the begging, the sound of gunfire. He felt...bad? No, not remorseful. Just...uneasy. Angry. His handler took notice and pulled out his phone. 

"We're an hour out. The asset is showing symptoms of reset withdrawal. I suggest having the chair prepped before we arrive."
"No." The voice on the other end was firm. "His mind has been left alone on purpose. I want him irritable, angry. He's going to have to get creative with this one." 
"Then it's safe to assume that it will be interrogating her?" His handler said, eyes roaming back to 32. At the word 'interrogate', the woman sitting on the floor, hands cuffed, visible tensed. 
Her eyes went to 32 as well. "You won't get anything out of me! I don't care what you do, I'm not risking the wor-"
"Shut her the hell up!" The outburst surprised everyone. The two soldiers just about jumped out of their skins as they scrambled to find a gag. 32's handler even seemed taken aback.
"Was that him?" The smooth voice on the other end of phone asked.
"Yes. It seems that it's agitated by Campbell's constant noise." 
"Good. Just the way we want him."