by GoozX
Nevada, fifty levels below ground level:
Red energy crackled through each level as a man lowered himself toward an office located directly in the middle of the complex. Concrete crumbled as the man's body descended through each floor, the rubble crushing bones as it free-fell. Guards took position and fired at him. The bullets stopped in mid-air and shot back at them, ripping through their chests, killing them on impact. The bullets maintained flight and shot directly into servers, mainframes and hard drives, destroying years and years of research.
Then the man stopped, his goal at hand. After blowing the office's door right off its hinges, he entered.
Two men occupied the room -- Head of Operations Richard Turner and General Paul Creed. The general was standing, a cold look plastered on his face, while Turner sat at his desk, a cigarette in one hand and a small device in the other.
"Agent Turner, welcome back."
"You piece of fucking shit!"
"Is that any way to speak to your father?"
Agent Turner stood, speechless as energy leaked from his body in incredible amounts.
"I see that you have already destroyed our New York and DC headquarters, costing us multimillions of dollars. But that money is nothing, nothing compared to the fact that you have reached a status higher than anything we could have even hoped for. You are brilliant."
"I am a monster."
"You are the future."
"You had no right to play god. You had no right to create me."
"Those who hold power make the rules. I hold the power."
"Why was I created? WHY?"
"You were created to lead an army. My army."
Richard Turner stood and walked over to his son.
"Over the last decade, we have been modifying the metagene, crafting it into our vision, releasing it in athletics and soldiers. Tests have been going on for years. The news and history books might say that this is natural, evolution even. But in reality, every strand of human DNA holds the metagene in a dormant state. We found out how to turn the on-switch. The problem is that it costs a lot of time and money to do so. But what is costly for us can be done in an instant for you. You have that ability, and you shall lead our army. I am the only person I can trust with this, and you are me. Always and forever, our blood is one."
"No."
"What?"
Before Richard Turner could react, a blast of red energy shot past him, ripping apart General Creed. Agent Turner flew directly up, the building collapsing as he passed each level. His father let out a last scream as the government building was reduced to rubble.
The MCCA was dead. Their creation was their undoing.
In a few hours, the current president would classify this as a failed experiment, locking the documents away where no one could see them. In a few days, all remaining agents would be discharged and mind-wiped. In a few weeks, the MCCA would be nothing but a faint memory for some.