Ryuuto frowned at the screen. The news anchor's smile felt like a knife.
"Final trials are complete," the chyron read. "Mass production will begin in days. The Department of Defense says a single injection can permanently suppress the mutant gene. Mutants who wish to 'become ordinary' may register at designated hospitals nationwide."
Ryuuto's jaw tightened. He'd assumed a vaccine like that would take longer to weaponize—and certainly longer to roll out. Worse, the government planned a nationwide distribution network and wanted mutants to register. As if listing yourself at the hospital was a harmless formality.
"Mutants are not patients," he said flatly. Susan and Natasha were already standing beside him, faces hard.
"What now?" Susan asked.
"We stop it," Ryuuto replied. "Wall Bio's research base is on Devil Island—the old prison isle near the Golden Gate. They turned that place into the injection lab. If they push this, they erase us."
Natasha folded her arms. "Announcing it now is weird. You don't advertise a biological program before it's mass-shipped unless you want a reaction. Either they're baiting us, or someone wants to force Magneto or us into the spotlight."
Ryuuto's phone buzzed. He flicked it open and smirked. "Mystique's on the road toward the Golden Gate. Magneto's probably already moving." He looked at Natasha. "If Magneto goes first, I can claim the 'arrest' angle when I arrive—ride his coattails. The public will see me as trying to stop Magneto, not a destroyer. But if I go in hot and the institute is wrecked… the government will scream that I massacred civilians. Let Magneto kick the hornet's nest first, then we finish the job."
Susan's eyes flashed. "You sure he'll go?"
"Absolutely." Ryuuto slid his sandwich into his mouth like he was declaring war between bites. Natasha's attempt at breakfast proved edible this time, and for once Ryuuto let himself enjoy the trivial comfort. Domesticity calmed the edges of violence—briefly.
By noon, Ryuuto, Susan, and Katie Dee were already en route. Susan cloaked herself. Katie Dee walked through the brick wall of the ferry terminal like it was a doorway. Ryuuto grinned; with those two, crossing to Devil Island would be easy.
But they weren't the first. Magneto, Mystique, Quicksilver, and a dozen Brotherhood members had already reached the Golden Gate. Devil Island was an island, yes—normally you'd take a boat. Magneto didn't bother. Hovering fifteen meters above the span, he spread his hands and roared, voice shaking the salt air.
"If you will not make a path for us," he said, "then I will make one myself."
The metal groaned. The bridge flexed under Magneto's control, cables singing like steel strings. Cars skidded, people screamed, and slabs of roadway fractured into massive plates. Under Magneto's will, a chunk of the Golden Gate rose like a leviathan back and floated toward Devil Island, carrying officers, vehicles, and the Brotherhood itself over the angry water.
Quicksilver stood on the prow, face taut. He wanted Wanda found, not weaponized. He wanted her safe, away from Magneto's ambition. But if this was his father's plan—if Magneto intended to use Wanda as a tool—Quicksilver would tear the world apart to keep that from happening.
The impromptu bridge hit Devil Island with a seismic thud. Officers poured out of the research facility, weapons cocked and lines drawn. Magneto looked down at them like a god seeing ants.
"We are not sick!" he thundered, cape whipping. "We are the power God gave this earth! No one has the right to strip us of what we are. Those who would take our power, those who would erase us—be judged by me! I declare: Those who target mutants for erasure must die!"
The shouts died into a shocked silence. The island's metal and concrete framed Magneto's silhouette—a declaration, not a negotiation. Ryuuto caught breath at the edge of the scene, watching the world tilt toward open war.