The hiss of compressed gas broke the silence.
Two officers raised their air rifles and fired—
Thump!
The toxin rounds splattered harmlessly against Susan's shimmering force field, bursting into a haze of green vapor. The smell hit like acid and burnt rubber.
If Katie Dee hadn't already dropped underground to flank them, Susan would've trapped the officers in their own poison by now.
But she didn't get the chance.
The floor cracked open, and Katie erupted upward like a ghost from the tiles—twin pistols in hand.
Bang! Bang!
Two sharp cracks echoed through the corridor. The officers stiffened, eyes wide, then collapsed where they stood.
Smoke curled from Katie's pistols as she slowly rose, floating slightly with her power. The weapons gleamed—modified by Natasha Romanoff herself, recoil down thirty percent, stopping power up forty. Perfectly tuned for someone who fought like a dancer but hit like a storm.
Katie smirked—then suddenly froze mid-stride. Her pupils rolled, her body went rigid, and she toppled forward.
"Katie!" Susan gasped.
The realization hit her a heartbeat too late—the gas.
Cursing under her breath, Susan conjured a telekinetic platform just in time to catch Katie's falling body before it hit the floor. The woman's limbs were locked stiff, expression blank like a marble statue.
Susan sighed. "You idiot… I told you not to breathe that stuff."
"Ughh… shhtuhp mah… rentin' 'nd beth dad…" Katie slurred through a half-frozen jaw, her voice breaking into nonsense syllables.
Susan blinked, then snorted into laughter. "You sound like a broken text-to-speech bot."
Katie glared—or at least, tried to. Her face barely twitched.
"Relax," Susan teased, dragging her friend out of the toxic cloud with another force field. "You're like, two steps away from becoming the Goddess of Doorstops."
Katie made a strangled noise that might've been a curse.
"Don't worry," Susan said sweetly. "I'll be your translator until you thaw out. What's that? Oh yes, you do still owe me bubble tea."
The only answer was a frustrated grunt.
Down below, in the basement, Ryuuto stood surrounded by trembling mutants. His eyes narrowed at the steel collars fastened around their necks—each one blinking with a faint red light.
"So these things can't be removed?" he asked.
Juggernaut, massive and silent until now, finally spoke. "No. We tried everything. It only detonates if we use our powers… but even I couldn't crush one."
"Even with that arm of yours?"
"Don't mock me, kid." Juggernaut raised what remained of his right arm—half-ruined bone and scar tissue. "My left hand can still bend steel. But this alloy—whatever it is—won't break."
Ryuuto studied the collar of a nearby prisoner—a woman in shredded clothes, trying to press herself against the bars in a way that screamed desperate manipulation.
"Touch me, hero. Let me out," she cooed.
Ryuuto didn't blink. "Not interested. Move your neck closer."
The woman pouted, but obeyed. Ryuuto examined the metal carefully, frowning. The texture… the gleam…
"Adamantium," he muttered.
He pulled out his commlink. "Nick. I need a confirmation. Who else has access to Adamantium besides S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Nick Fury's voice came sharp and low through the speaker. "Not unique to us, Red Mirage. The Defense Department has a stash. Why?"
"I'm staring at detonator collars made from it."
A pause. Then Fury sighed. "Yeah. I've seen the schematics. They're Defense-issued. The collars are designed to never come off. Either they stay on for life—or they blow."
Ryuuto's grip tightened. "So the only 'release method' is—"
"Decapitation," Fury finished grimly. "That's how they keep the ones who can regrow heads from rebelling. Break down the tissue chemically. No survivors."
The phone creaked under Ryuuto's fingers. "What do they think Mutants are, Fury? Animals? Weapons? Their kids could be next!"
There was a silence on the line. Then Fury's voice dropped. "Already killed the one responsible."
Ryuuto froze. "…What?"
Fury didn't repeat himself.
The line went dead.
Ryuuto stood there in the dim light, breathing hard. The smell of blood and burnt metal filled the air. Around him, the imprisoned Mutants stared in fearful awe—the Red Mirage's crimson eyes glowing faintly like embers about to ignite.