The attacker teleported from the chandelier to the wall. Several guards instinctively opened fire, and Daisy watched two bullet holes appear in an oil painting depicting George Washington's glorious deeds. Hopefully it was a reproduction! Otherwise these guards could never afford to pay for it.
Her powerful dynamic visual acuity came into play. The enemy's teleportation trajectory seemed several times slower in her eyes, and Daisy fired directly into empty air.
She missed. His teleportation was still faster than the bullet, and the moment he sensed danger, he shifted away again.
"Doesn't look like much after all. Everyone, fire according to my orders." She redistributed their fields of fire, pulling everyone except a few big men serving as human shields into the concentrated barrage.
"Left! Right! Right again!" A few guards ignored her at first, but it quickly became obvious that Daisy was calling the attacker's movements perfectly. After that, there was nothing to argue about—they simply followed her directions and fired into empty air.
Some reacted quickly and some slowly, and they could only aim in the general direction Daisy called out. That made life miserable for the attacker.
With more than a dozen guns firing at one spot, no matter how fast he teleported, sooner or later pure dumb luck would put a bullet in him.
"Pfft!" A bullet struck his arm, leaving a splash of blood on the floor before he teleported away.
"I hit him! I'm the one who hit him!" a short Black guard shouted excitedly.
Wounding the attacker and helping save the president was an achievement he would be able to brag about for a very long time.
The other guards were beside themselves with envy. That had been nothing but sheer luck. It was completely unfair!
Daisy poured cold water on their excitement. "The enemy hasn't left yet."
The words had barely left her mouth when the attacker reappeared. This time he stopped tangling with the guards and aimed directly for President Obama.
Without pausing, he teleported three times in succession and appeared directly above President Obama. The guards did not dare fire with the president so close. What if one of them missed and killed him instead?
Daisy could not shoot either. At the critical instant, she yanked President Obama aside while grabbing a chair that looked like a historical artifact and hurling it at the attacker.
Seeing that the woman intended to fight him in close quarters, the blue-skinned attacker advanced instead of retreating. He reached out to catch the chair while curling his triangular tail around, preparing to strike President Obama.
Child's play! Daisy was disdainful. The enemy's physical attributes were stronger than an ordinary person's, roughly comparable to Daisy's peak immediately after her first bloodline awakening.
Among humans and mutants, that was fairly impressive. Strength, speed, constitution—his abilities were balanced across the board, with no obvious weakness. But that was all.
Even with her attributes suppressed to ordinary-human levels, Daisy's superior judgment and experience made defeating him easy enough.
She released the chair. You like it? Then you can have it.
With a backhand motion, she seized the enemy's elbow joint, trying to dislocate his arm. He had no choice but to pull his tail back and attack Daisy instead.
That was exactly what she had expected. Her movements were neither too fast nor too slow; everyone could see them clearly. Daisy caught the enemy's tail, picked up a pen from President Obama's desk, and drove it straight down at the long tail.
The pen was sharp. The White House was not going to cut corners with cheap pens, and Daisy applied her strength with great precision. She avoided the center, where there seemed to be bone, and pierced through muscle and skin along the side, pinning the long blue tail to the desktop.
The attacker howled. The pain was unbearable. Judging by his expression, you would have thought the pen had gone through his balls instead.
Daisy casually dislocated one of his arms as well, then slammed a palm strike into the back of his neck.
The blue-skinned attacker took the heavy blow, his vision swimming, and collapsed face-first onto the desk.
The enemy was unconscious, but the White House guards were stumped by how to restrain him. He could teleport; handcuffs were useless.
"Anesthetic. Don't tell me you don't have any." Deputy Director Johnson had no choice but to give them the answer. Everyone suddenly understood and, working in a flurry, quickly put the attacker under general anesthesia.
President Obama was badly shaken and sat in his chair pretending to be calm. The guards were busy too. Searching the attacker, they found a dagger engraved with the words, "For mutant rights."
News spread quickly, and numerous senior government officials came to offer their sympathies to the unfortunate president.
Naturally, Beast Hank McCoy came as well in his capacity as head of the Department of Mutant Affairs.
"Mr. Hank McCoy, the White House needs an explanation for this assassin." The captain of the guard, whose spotlight Daisy had stolen, grabbed Beast by the collar and refused to let go, trying to win back some credit.
Beast could have sent the man flying with one punch, but he chose restraint. After learning what had happened in the fight, he thanked Daisy.
If the president had been killed, it would have been a truly disastrous event for mutants.
"His ability looks almost identical to Azazel's. Do you have records on him?" Daisy asked the question on many people's minds.
"Kurt Wagner. He's a mutant in Germany known as Nightcrawler. As far as we know, he isn't an extremist. What happened this time is extremely abnormal."
Faced with the hostile looks from the people in the White House, Beast remained perfectly calm. His conscience was clear. He proposed examining Nightcrawler's body, or perhaps testing his blood. He suspected the man had been controlled with drugs.
"Everyone, move aside. Secretary McCoy holds doctorates in biology, chemistry, genetics, and several other fields. Let him examine the man." Seeing that the guards did not trust Beast, Daisy could only use her own reputation. That reputation carried enough weight to quell their objections and clear a path for him.
Beast thanked her again for the support. He had originally been about to ask the White House for a blood-draw kit, but after only a couple of glances he discovered a major problem.
There was a round hole in the back of Kurt's neck. A faint metallic gleam and translucent fluid could be seen inside. Beast immediately relaxed. Nightcrawler had obviously been controlled. Who naturally had a piece of precision machinery embedded in the back of their head?
The nature of the incident changed completely. The mutant was not the assassin but the victim, a knife in the true killer's hand. The question now was: who was the killer?
"I need to return to my laboratory for further examination." Beast quickly reached his conclusion. Nightcrawler had undoubtedly been controlled, but the device was extremely precise, the scene was chaotic, and he lacked the tools to work here.
President Obama wanted to know who had tried to kill him. After a little hesitation, he decided to follow Beast's recommendation, though he insisted on watching the entire process.
The whole group headed straight for Hank's laboratory.
They watched Hank operate the various instruments like a blue-furred gorilla.
"This guy can teleport. Don't let him escape," Daisy reminded Beast as he secured Nightcrawler to a metal frame.
"Don't worry. He can't get away." Extremely confident in his technology, Beast activated something in the laboratory that resembled a sonic emitter.