Outside the Jacob K. Javits Federal Building, a sea of placards, flags, and faces chanted as one.
HUMANITY FIRST.
DEATH TO DEMONS.
BRING BACK MUTANT REGISTRATION.
The glass and steel above us reflected the crowd back on itself in fractured reds and blues, and out in front of the protestors stood leaders dressed in clothing a bit too clean, wearing body armor, and holding megaphones far too expensive for something as grassroots as this.
Senator Robert Alden's fingerprints were all over it.
Publicly, he was a fiscal hawk and a national security purist who took a hard line on mutants and enhanced individuals because he had to, and he was on track to become the Governor of Tennessee in the next election. Privately, he funneled money into Friends of Humanity through three shell nonprofits and a "civic preservation" PAC that had never seen an anti-mutant cause it did not back.
He sat on two defense committees and had quiet partnerships with A.I.M. and other mega-tech corporations. We had partial documentation: transfers, text messages, and conversations that mentioned him, but nothing that tied the man directly to anti-mutant groups.
"Registration now!" the crowd chanted.
Up close, it was hard to ignore their humanity. A Black family stood near a barricade, their teenage son holding up a neatly lettered REGULATE POWERS sign like it was a school project. An older white couple in matching windbreakers clutched small American flags. Latino men in thick work boots stood shoulder to shoulder with college students filming it all on their phones.
I had been dismissive when my investigation started, but the longer it went on, the more I saw of them: everyday people placed in impossible positions by forces beyond their control.
Thousands lost their livelihoods and loved ones in the attacks that happened in New York that fateful day, and hundreds had experienced the same in the mass awakenings happening worldwide. The government and SHIELD were trying to get ahead of it, but everything felt overwhelming.
Kitty's voice slipped into my mind, tight around the edges. I didn't expect this mix.
She was phased into a cornice of a nearby building, invisible to the crowd, watching the protest from above.
I thought only white supremacists and crazy people came to this type of thing.
Logan answered from across the rally, his mental voice rough as gravel dragged over concrete. Hate ain't race specific, kid.
A protester shoved past me, his elbow digging into my ribs, and he grunted in surprise. His eyes rose to meet mine, but there was no recognition. I wore a pair of Ray-Bans and had taken to growing a short beard. I looked completely different from the way I used to.
"Watch where you're going!" he shouted over the cacophony as he pushed himself further to the front of the protest.
"They look like everybody else," Kitty observed.
"'Cause they are," Logan said. "They're angry, and they're trying to take back control of their lives, even if it means stripping us of ours."
The leader of the protest marched ahead of the crowd to the edge of the police barricade and began to speak.
"For too long we've stayed quiet, let the government drag their feet, and cast us to the wayside in support of so-called heroes who've brought nothing but pain into our lives. Thousands died during the battle in New York, and dozens more have died across America because of unregistered mutants and enhanced individuals through so-called awakenings and attacks. For God's sake, some cartels over the border have even started hiring these freaks!"
His voice sounded crisp, carrying far with perfect clarity. I wondered if those words were his or Alden's. The crowd cheered.
"I say enough is enough. The American people want you to do something. Make the mutants register, get their teenagers out of our kids' classrooms, and send the alien freaks back where they came from. We are not letting them take our jobs, and we are sure as hell not letting them take over our country!"
The crowd exploded into a frenzy. There were chants, fists pumping, frantic sign-waving, and incoherent shouts. It was chilling. Only Logan's steady presence kept me from spiraling.
"Here's your best chance," he said over our telepathic link. "Get closer to the organizers and plant the links."
"Right," I sent back. I had to stay on mission and remember the real reason we were here. "Approaching now."
I let my thumb brush the inner seam of my long-sleeve shirt, activating the mind rune cluster. It contained dozens of runes specifically designed to help the X-Men during investigations and fights. It was the newest gift Dante had given us when he heard about our mission. It also held a spatial enchantment that allowed us to equip our new suits with a single thought.
The rune I intended to use was exactly as Logan described. It would allow us to track and, if necessary, listen in on conversations our targets were having. It lasted about a week, though we did not expect to need that long before finding evidence linking Friends of Humanity to the Senator and to discriminatory violence.
Our targets were Henry McCall and his wife, the leaders of the New York branch of Friends of Humanity, the largest in the nation by far. Henry was the public face and speaker, while his wife handled logistics and, if our intel was correct, dealt with the Senator directly.
I raised my hand to my wrist as if checking my watch and took aim at her. She was a blonde woman in her early forties, loudly cheering her husband. You would never think she was the type, but appearances can be deceiving.
I tapped my gauntlet, and a blue, almost translucent line of energy shot out, crossing the distance in a fraction of a second and striking the back of her head. She took an unsteady step forward and glanced back. I had already ducked behind another protester and was making my way toward the outskirts of the crowd.
"Mission accomplished," I sent through the link.
"Uh, guys…" Kitty transmitted. "We might have company."
I had nearly reached the edge of the crowd when I saw them. Ten figures marched toward the protesters, several with obvious physical mutations. One man had a jaw too wide for his head. A girl had ridged chitin running along her forearm. An older man's sclera were blacked out entirely.
They met every stare and murmur head-on, and the air grew suffocating. Shouts dropped to whispers. Protesters on the periphery held their signs with less certainty.
The police line reacted immediately. Hands went to holsters. Commands were barked and half-drowned in the rising noise.
"They're hungry for trouble," Logan said. "It'll be a bloodbath if we don't step in."
Intervening would risk the operation and alert Friends of Humanity that we were watching, but the alternative was worse.
"Move," I sent. "I'm on my way."
A skinny kid, maybe nineteen, forced her way to the front. Her eyes were red, her hands shaking with anger that had clearly been building for a long time. She pointed straight at Henry McCall's gaunt, snarling face.
"You!" he shouted. "You were there."
The chanting faltered. I thought I saw recognition flicker in McCall's eyes.
"You were there when they took her," she said, her voice cracking but loud. "You animals waited outside our house. You dragged her into your bus when you thought no one was looking. Where is my sister?"
A ripple passed through the crowd. People shifted and recalculated. Some looked deeply uncomfortable.
The older mutant with the blacked-out sclera stepped forward. "We won't ask you a second time." He lifted his hand, and two globes of green liquid manifested. Droplets struck the pavement and melted it on contact.
This was about to go very wrong.
The others braced. One's skin hardened. Another's eyes lit with gathering energy.
The chapter leader was sweating, but he found his voice. "See," he declared. "See how easily violence comes to them. You have to understand now that it is them or us."
I tapped my wrist, and my body rippled as a yellow-and-black X-Men uniform formed around me. I took to the air, kinetic energy swirling in a controlled aura around my form, and just in time as a bullet rang out.
Blurring forward, I snatched up the bullet, drawing audible gasps and looks.
I scanned the crowd and tracked the shooter. He was a twenty-something in body armor, his jaw slack as he stared at me.
I sent Kitty a telepathic message to keep an eye on him and steadied myself, preparing to speak. Cameras were already raised. Even Henry looked uncertain now.
"Who are you?" the police sergeant demanded.
"Cyclops," I answered smoothly, gesturing to my now-missing visor. "I had a costume change."
My new armor consisted of a vibranium bodysuit with gauntlets, boots, a utility belt I had insisted on, and reinforced plates at critical points to minimize damage.
"We all need to take a breath," I said, looking around. "Violence will not get us what we want." I looked at the mutants and then to Friends of Humanity. "It will only give them ammunition."
"Whose side are you on?" the older mutant demanded, stepping forward.
"I am on the side of the innocent," I replied, fixing him with a steady stare and glancing at the glowing orbs in his hands. "It does not matter whether they are human or mutant."
"Easy to say when you're the one with all the power," Henry shouted, earning cheers. "You and the purple-eyed freak you follow look down at us from on high, peddling solutions to problems you create."
"Since when did we start blaming entire groups for the actions of a few?" I asked. "Where I come from, we call that racism."
Henry's eyes bulged, and he received several uncomfortable looks from those standing near him, some of them Black and Hispanic.
I lowered myself to the ground and met the eyes of the girl who had led the march. It was difficult, but she needed someone steady in front of her.
"You have my word that I will get to the bottom of this," I said, then glanced at the sergeant. "And the police will help you do the same. Isn't that right?"
The man blinked, startled, but quickly recovered and nodded.
"Yes. We will help you find your sister."
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