Ryuuto spotted the shadow first, then the shape stepped out from behind the building like a stain on moonlight.
Raven—Mystique—had the same liquid-blue skin and the same sly, unreadable smile. She wore nothing that needed naming; even at a casual walk, the curve and rhythm of her body made her presence impossible to ignore.
Ryuuto didn't look at that. He looked at her eyes.
"So you ditched your master to play peekaboo?" he called. Calm, bored—too calm.
Raven spread her hands with theatrical innocence. "I wanted to dance with you again."
Ryuuto raised an eyebrow. "Unless your 'dancing' has an interesting definition."
"Isn't this how female humans behave?" Raven's tone was silk and knife. "They like to flirt with talented men. You're one of the few real mutants I've seen. One dance is novel. I can imitate anyone—so each dance is like meeting someone new."
"Look in a mirror, Raven. You can imitate anyone you want—why choose me?"
"How did you know I was here?" she asked, voice taut with curiosity.
"I have telepathy." Ryuuto shrugged like he'd just mentioned he liked pizza.
Raven blinked. "Impossible."
Ryuuto's lips tipped. "I can sense mutant signatures, not read minds like Professor Xavier. So—no psychic snooping, just a radar for mutant presence. Now tell me why Magneto sent his favorite chameleon to our school."
"Magneto wanted me to check on you." Her expression softened a degree. "He suspected the government was making a move. I came to help. In the end… it was mostly a scouting trip."
"Right." Ryuuto folded his arms. "Magneto's kind of pushy about recruiting. He's been trying to sway you for ages. But you know how I differ from him?"
Raven tilted her head. "Where?"
"Magneto wants revolution and domination—sometimes it smells a lot like enslaving the normals, or forcibly making them into mutants. I want the regime toppled too, but I don't want to replace one tyranny with another. Charles wants coexistence. Me too. Overthrow the corrupt, then live peacefully. End of story."
Raven's face hardened. "They treat us like monsters—how can coexistence ever work?"
"Because Magneto scared them blind." Ryuuto's voice was flat with irritation. "Destroying settlements, slaughtering civilians—fear drives people to preemptive annihilation. They'll always respond with more brutality."
"Today you killed nearly a thousand soldiers." Raven's observation was quieter, incredulous.
"Those soldiers were instruments of a corrupt state. Civilians got spared. That's the line. Magneto blurs the line; I try not to." Ryuuto met her gaze like a dare. "One more time you sneak into this school, Raven, and I won't waste words on explanations. I will make you regret it."
Raven smiled—amused, but not provoked. "Noted. I'll leave then. Try not to get flattened tonight."
She melted back into the night like paint in water.
Ryuuto fished out his phone and stared at the blinking red dot on the tracking app. He pocketed it again. Telepathy? Please. He did tech.
Last night, they'd danced. He'd put his hand at Raven's waist, felt the slick of her blue skin, and—quiet as a shadow—pressed a fingertip against a seam in her clothing. A nanobot slipped into her pores and rode her bloodstream like a whisper. The tracker replaced the old one he'd removed without her ever noticing.
Raven was Magneto's trusted lieutenant—where she went, he followed. So finding Raven meant finding Magneto. But Magneto, for now, was nowhere. He was looking for Wanda. No trace yet.
Washington, D.C. — an old warehouse sat like a secret with cars parked all around it. The Secretary of Defense stepped out, flanked by aides, and walked inside with the kind of certainty that smells like conspiracy.
"You finally came," Ant-Man drawled, lounging against a crate. He toyed with a glinting, sinister thing in his hand—Loki's scepter—like a bored kid with a laser pointer.
"Hand over the scepter." The Secretary's voice was flat steel. "That thing cost thousands of lives. You give it to me."
Ant-Man—armored in a prototype battle suit that hummed with tech—shrugged. "And what would you do with it? If you touch someone's chest with that, they obey. You could control a nation's leaders like puppets. That's dangerous."
"For the security of the nation," the Secretary said, "I must have it."
Ant-Man's grin was thin. "Might want to check with Director Fury on that. Don't just hand over an artifact of… cosmic-grade meddling."
The Secretary's face didn't twitch. "We don't want to make this political. Ant-Man, for the good of the country—give it."
"Nope." Ant-Man folded his arms. "I don't trust… your definition of 'country.'"
Then the shadow hit the floor.
A figure burst toward Ant-Man with ridiculous speed. Gunmetal flashes, two shots cracked in quick succession. Ant-Man barely had time to register the attack—one round grazed the suit. He cursed, slammed a button on his gauntlet, and shrank.
Tiny as an ant, he disappeared into the weave of crates and dust.
The scepter flew from his hand and tumbled through the air. The Secretary snatched it, clutching the prize like a man who'd just been handed the keys to a prison.
The attacker stepped into view with all the chewable charm of a grenade wearing a mask. Two pistols slipped back into their holsters with comic flourish; twin blades slid free. He cocked his head and announced like a stage magician revealing his trick.
"Don't be an ant, come out and play, little guy. Let's see if you can kill me."
"Deadpool," the Secretary hissed.
"Deadpool," Ant-Man corrected, voice muffled from within the crates. "The merc with a mouth."
Deadpool bowed theatrical, blades glittering. "You know it. And I've been dying to meet—well—someone who actually brought props to a coup. Also, fun fact, I love scepters. They're such clingy accessories."
Ryuuto watched through the security feed he'd tapped into from a corner of the compound. His mouth curled.
Of all the chaos tonight, he hadn't expected the Merc with a Mouth to drop by.
Perfect. Hectic. Predictably unhinged.
He leaned forward, palms warming, because when Deadpool showed up, things did not stay boring for long.