Liam Hayes reached out and gave Magneto a light pat on the shoulder. "Keep at it," he said casually. "I think Lorna will forgive you eventually."
Even though Magneto had been absent from her life for years, Liam could still see that, at the core of it, his intentions hadn't been entirely selfish. He had believed he was protecting her in his own way.
Of course, Lorna didn't see it that way.
But from what Liam had observed recently, she wasn't as cold or unforgiving as Magneto feared. There was still room for things to change.
Hearing that, Magneto's expression eased slightly.
"By the way," he added after a moment, "how's our plan progressing?"
At that question, Liam's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "The experiment's going very well. If everything keeps moving like this, the machine should be ready soon."
That progress wasn't accidental.
Tracking down Dr. Eason and pushing the research forward had taken effort, but it was already paying off.
Magneto nodded with visible approval. "Liam, I knew I didn't misjudge you."
Liam shrugged lightly, thinking to himself that the real reason he was so invested in all of this had more to do with what Magneto's plans could offer him in return.
"Alright," Liam said, cutting the moment short. "Let's head back."
He wasn't interested in standing around talking all night.
With a flicker of spatial distortion, the four of them disappeared.
A moment later, they were back at Xavier's Academy.
…
The next morning.
While Liam was still lying comfortably in bed, enjoying a rare moment of uninterrupted sleep, the atmosphere in the White House was anything but calm.
Inside the president's office, the man himself was already at his desk, buried in work.
The attempted assassination by a mutant had already spread through the media, and now he had no choice but to push forward policies regarding mutants. Even if he didn't want to, the situation was forcing his hand.
Just as he was trying to focus—
The door burst open.
"Mr. President, something's wrong!" the chief of staff rushed in, his voice tense.
The president frowned. "What now?"
"This morning's report," the man said quickly, handing over a newspaper.
The president took it and glanced at the headline.
"Terrorists Attack New York School — Students and Teachers Killed."
A chill ran down his spine.
A very bad feeling settled in his chest as he began reading.
"Last night, a heavily armed terrorist group launched a brutal attack on a school in New York, resulting in the deaths of a large number of students…"
He didn't need to read any further.
The president's face twisted, anger and disbelief mixing together.
This was exactly what he had tried to avoid.
And somehow, it had turned out even worse than he had imagined.
The newspaper included graphic images—bloody scenes of what looked like a massacre. The scale of it alone was enough to ignite public outrage.
"Damn it, William…" the president muttered under his breath, his expression darkening. "This is your doing."
The chief of staff beside him didn't dare speak.
The president immediately grabbed his phone and dialed Stryker's number.
He needed an explanation.
Beep… beep…
The line rang.
And rang.
No answer.
"Damn it!" The president slammed the phone down, his frustration boiling over.
Before he could recover—
Another assistant rushed in.
"Mr. President, there's more bad news!"
"Say it," he snapped, forcing himself to stay composed.
"It's the Alkali Lake Hydroelectric Station…"
"What about it?" the president demanded.
"It's… collapsed."
"What?"
For a moment, he just stared.
The Alkali Lake Hydroelectric Station wasn't some minor facility. It was one of the most important power sources in New York. Its sudden destruction would cause enormous economic damage.
And more importantly—
That was Stryker's base.
The implications hit him all at once.
The president sank back into his chair, his face pale. He could already imagine the backlash that was coming.
Investors. Politicians. The public.
Everyone would be furious.
"S.H.I.E.L.D…" he muttered suddenly.
The name stood out in the report.
The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division had been mentioned as the force that responded to the attack.
They had intervened.
And apparently, they had wiped out the attackers.
Which meant—
The military unit sent in by Stryker had been completely eliminated.
The president's eyes darkened.
He picked up the phone again and dialed another number.
The call connected almost immediately.
"Nick Fury," the president said coldly, "I think you owe me an explanation."
On the other end, Fury didn't sound surprised at all.
"Mr. President," he replied calmly, "I'm not sure what you're referring to."
"Don't play games with me," the president snapped. "You've seen the report. You know exactly what I mean."
"Oh, that," Fury said lightly. "S.H.I.E.L.D. neutralized a group of terrorists. I didn't expect the president himself to call just to commend us."
The president nearly exploded.
"You think this is a joke? You expect me to believe those weren't military personnel? Or are you telling me S.H.I.E.L.D. is openly working with mutants now?"
"Mr. President," Fury replied evenly, "we simply handled a terrorist threat. We didn't see any military involvement."
The answer was smooth.
Too smooth.
"Nick Fury," the president said through clenched teeth, "don't think I don't know about your connections with mutants. Even if I go down, I'll make sure you don't walk away clean from this."
At that, Fury's tone shifted slightly.
Not defensive.
But measured.
"Mr. President," he said, "the real mastermind behind the assassination attempt on you was Colonel William Stryker. The attack on the school was also part of his plan."
He stopped there.
He didn't need to say more.
The implication was obvious.
Stryker was already dead.
Which meant—
Everything could be pinned on him.
Silence filled the line.
The president understood immediately.
Blame Stryker.
Blame the dead man.
Contain the damage.
If handled properly, he might still salvage his position.
After a long moment, the president hung up.
He leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting through anger, frustration, and calculation.
Then, slowly—
He made his decision.
Everything would be placed on Stryker.
The assassination attempt.
The school attack.
The collapse of the hydropower station.
All of it.
…
At Xavier's Academy, Liam's phone rang.
He picked it up, listened for a moment, and then a wide grin spread across his face.
"Looks like," he said softly, "the lesson finally landed."
....
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