c"Then bye-bye, Lucy. Take care. And don't be reckless like this again," Luke said, standing balanced on the dragon's back as it climbed higher. Wind rolled off its wings in hot waves. "Not everyone you run into will be as patient as me."
The dragon beat its wings once — WHUMPF — and the street below began to shrink fast, cars turning into dots, people into scattered shadows.
Lucy raised her hand and waved on instinct, still processing everything. "Y-yeah… you too…" she muttered, a little late, a little dazed.
Only after he was a speck in the sky did she look back at her livestream screen.
The numbers were still climbing.
1.2M
1.6M
2.3M viewers — and rising.
Then, a red warning banner appeared across the top:
STREAM INTERRUPTED — GOVERNMENT ORDER
Her channel feed cut to black.
Lucy stared at it for two seconds — then snorted.
"Wow," she said flatly. "Now they remember the off switch."
But what was the point of blocking the broadcast now?
The truth had already spread.
Millions had already seen it — the missiles, the street, the civilians still present, the strike order given anyway. Cutting the official stream only confirmed what people were already thinking.
You don't shut down a feed unless there's something you don't want seen.
Clips were already everywhere — mirrored, reposted, screen-recorded from phones. You couldn't erase that kind of evidence anymore. Not in a connected world.
Now the public knew exactly what had happened in Midtown — that the military had authorized street-level missile strikes in a populated city block just to eliminate a single target, fully aware civilians were in the blast radius.
The narrative had flipped in minutes.
Instead of fear toward mutants, outrage began turning toward command decisions.
The military was about to be dragged through public fire — and the government backing those orders wouldn't escape it either.
In the bunker,
Hank, Xavier, Jean, and Clarice were in the meeting room, watching the monitors. The Midtown footage kept replaying — lightning field, melted Sentinels, the missile interception. No one treated it lightly.
Xavier was visibly conflicted. Luke's methods were brutal, direct, without hesitation — and he didn't approve of that. But the impact of Luke's words on the public was undeniable. The narrative outside was shifting.
"Ummm… Professor, is he Omega-level mutant?" Jean asked.
"Maybe," Xavier answered after a moment. "His displayed output has already surpassed Alpha classification. And we still don't know the full scope of his abilities."
He looked back at the screen. "So far — telekinesis, lightning control, extreme physical strength, regeneration… and now that dragon construct."
A moment later, the door slid open.
Magneto walked in wearing his iconic suit and helmet, cape settling behind him as he stopped.
"Charles," Erik said, a confident edge in his tone, "I've located a mutant powerful enough to shift the balance."
Then he followed their line of sight to the monitors.
Charles lifted a hand and pointed at the screen.
"If that's who you came to tell me about," he said evenly, "we're already aware."
A small pause.
"He's with us."
Which caused Erik to frown slightly, real confusion showing this time.
"When did our group get someone that powerful?" Erik asked. "I was gone for one week. What exactly happened during that time?"
***
On Luke's side,
He was flying back toward the bunker, wind pressure streaming past him in steady currents.
Then—suddenly—
A presence.
It hit his mind like a hooked wire—sharp, invasive, probing—then stopped cold, unable to push any deeper.
Luke's expression flattened.
"Heh… now that's interesting," a voice echoed inside his head. Smooth. Amused. Too confident. "That is a very large spiritual field you're carrying around."
Luke didn't slow. "You picked the wrong brain to knock on," he said mentally. "Who are you?"
A chuckle — dry and unpleasant.
"If I answered every question thrown at me, I'd be very bored by now."
The presence slid around the edges of his mental defenses, testing angles instead of brute force now. It felt oily. Patient. Predatory.
Then the tone shifted — annoyed underneath the humor.
"You are being extremely disruptive, you know that? It took time to prepare this climate. Fear needs nurturing. Hatred needs direction. Humans are very easy creatures — push their insecurity, give them a target, and they do the rest."
Luke's eyes hardened slightly.
"You turned them against mutants."
"I encouraged them," the voice corrected lightly. "Policies, paranoia, escalation. They were finally ripening — and then you gave them a speech."
A faint click of irritation.
"Very inconsiderate."
"So you're the one behind the switch six months ago," Luke said. Not a question — a placement.
Another laugh. Softer.
"I am behind many switches."
The pressure pushed again — sharper this time — and again failed to enter. Luke's Infinite Mind trait held like a sealed vault door.
The voice paused.
"…You're not telepathic," it observed. "Not mutant-pattern. Not psychic-structure. What exactly are you?"
"Not your food," Luke replied.
Silence for half a beat — then a grin in sound.
"Oh, I like you. Dangerous, loud, destabilizing. That makes you either very useful… or very necessary to remove."
"Get in line," Luke said calmly. "A lot of things want that."
A slick, amused voice slid through his thoughts.
"Yeah… I can tell getting rid of you won't be easy," it said. "So why not cooperate instead?"
"What makes you think I'd agree?" Luke replied, tone flat.
"Why wouldn't you?" the voice answered smoothly. "I can give you anything — women, money, power, influence. Whatever you want. Just stop interfering. Stop being an obstacle."
Luke snorted mid-flight.
"You're late," he said. "I already have complicated women, too much money, and more power than is healthy for the planet."
A brief silence followed.
"Well, I just offered you a chance," the voice said, dripping with mock disappointment. "Seems that won't be happening."
"Thanks for this visit," Luke answered flatly. "Now I know exactly who I'm supposed to kill."
The confirmation settled firmly in his mind—this guy was the Avatar of Corruption, the same guy that had twisted his spiritual sense yesterday.
"Be ready," Luke said evenly. "Soon I'll have your head."
The presence didn't feel threatened. If anything, it felt amused.
"Head?" the voice replied with a low, wet chuckle. "I have many. I wonder how many you can cut off before I take yours."
*****
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