"Where are we going?" Rowan Mercer asked from the back of the truck. He looked between Gabriela and the heavyset driver, Isabel, as the engine rumbled through the night.
Gabriela didn't hesitate. "We need to reach the North Dakota border before five p.m. next Friday. From there, we cross into Canada."
"Why Canada?" Rowan asked. "And why that exact time?"
Gabriela folded her hands, choosing her words carefully. "Before mutants disappeared, Canada was one of the least hostile countries toward them. We reached out quietly before we moved the children. They agreed to take them in—but only if we didn't make noise. At the appointed time, they'll disrupt satellite coverage near the border and extract us from the other side."
Rowan nodded slowly. That explained the precision.
Still, unease lingered.
A government wasn't a person. It changed faces, policies, priorities. Even if Canada had once been welcoming, there was no guarantee those children wouldn't end up traded from one cage to another.
He said as much.
Gabriela looked surprised—not offended, just tired. "We know. But we don't have better options. Staying meant certain death. This way… at least there's a chance."
Rowan leaned back, exhaling. He understood that kind of choice too well. When all paths were bad, you picked the one that hurt the least.
"I'll get you to the border," he said finally. "After that, I disappear."
That was his line. He wasn't handing his future—or theirs—entirely to any government.
Two hours later, the truck rolled into Ciudad Juárez.
Rowan peered out at the city lights. He knew the name well. Juárez had a reputation carved in blood—border violence, cartels, gunfire echoing through streets that never truly slept.
The truck stopped outside a massive supermarket. While Gabriela and Isabel went inside for supplies, Rowan stayed behind.
A television mounted above the entrance caught his eye.
"Breaking news," the anchor said. "Stark Industries CEO Tony Stark has gone missing following an attack in Afghanistan's Kunar Province. His current status is unknown."
Rowan's breath hitched.
That moment.
The spark that would forge Iron Man.
A slow smile crept across his face.
"Maybe," he murmured, "this isn't the only way out."
Trusting governments felt like gambling blind. Trusting Tony Stark was a different equation. Arrogant, reckless, impossible—but when it mattered, Stark showed up. And more importantly, Stark was powerful enough to tell governments no.
If he could help Stark survive—really help—then the children wouldn't need to hide. They could live. Learn. Be protected.
And Rowan could finally work on magic without a gun to his head.
Yes, it meant stepping closer to the storm. Yes, it meant future danger.
But sitting still was worse.
"This isn't the movie universe," Rowan thought. "If the wrong disaster hits early, nobody comes back."
He rubbed his chin, already calculating.
"To make Tony Stark owe me," he muttered, "it has to be a life debt."
The problem was obvious.
He didn't know Stark's exact location. Only rumors. A desert. A cave. A war zone.
Rowan exhaled slowly.
"Still," he said quietly, eyes sharp, "every impossible rescue starts with a direction."
And for the first time since the escape, the future cracked open with possibility.