Las Vegas.
Caesars Palace Hotel.
While Professor Xavier and Magneto were each reacting in their own way to the revelation of mutant cloning, Richard was occupied with something far less political.
Inside the master bedroom, he and Emma Frost were engaged in what could generously be described as an intense philosophical discussion about the origin of life. In truth, Richard was simply enjoying Emma's attentive and deliberate affection, her movements unhurried and precise.
The master suite's soundproofing was excellent, but not flawless.
In the second bedroom, Wanda pressed a pillow over her ears and muttered, "Shameless."
Her voice carried a mixture of annoyance and awkward embarrassment. She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before turning onto her side, trying to ignore the faint but unmistakable sounds drifting through the walls.
In the other guest room, Pietro increased the television volume to near maximum. Action scenes exploded across the screen, but even that didn't fully drown out the distant rhythm coming from down the hall.
He lay flat on his back, staring upward.
When will I ever have a girlfriend like that?
The thought surfaced uninvited, followed by a sigh he didn't bother suppressing.
…
The next morning, the four of them sat in the hotel restaurant for breakfast.
Richard, composed as ever, introduced Emma properly.
"This is Emma Frost," he said casually. "Formerly known as the White Queen of the Hellfire Club."
Wanda and Pietro both stiffened almost immediately.
They were now dressed in casual clothes the hotel had purchased overnight. Simple jeans and fitted tops, nothing extravagant, yet they stood out effortlessly. Good looks didn't require designer labels. Wanda carried natural elegance, and Pietro's sharp features and silver hair drew attention without effort.
Combined with Richard and Emma, the four of them made an unusually striking group.
"Formerly?" Pietro repeated carefully, eyes narrowing.
Richard nodded. "She's no longer affiliated with the Hellfire Club. What happened to you was Shaw's personal decision. Emma didn't know."
Wanda remained silent, but her gaze lingered on Emma with restrained suspicion.
"How can you be sure she's telling the truth?" Pietro asked.
"Because I can read minds," Richard replied plainly. "And I have."
Pietro glanced at Emma again, expression complicated. He clearly didn't enjoy the idea of his thoughts being accessible, but he didn't argue further.
"As far as I know," Pietro continued, "the Hellfire Club also has a Black Bishop and a Black Rook. Are you going after them next?"
"Not unless they come looking for me," Richard answered. "I'm not hunting people for sport."
There were thousands of mutants with useful abilities. If he chased every one of them, he would never have time for anything else.
"So what's next?" Pietro pressed. "You take us with you to avoid being caught again?"
Richard smiled faintly and shook his head.
"I've been an S-class wanted criminal for three months," he said calmly. "I'm getting tired of it."
Emma paused mid-sip of coffee.
Wanda and Pietro both stared at him.
"I'm going to have the Mutant Affairs Department publicly apologize," Richard continued. "They'll cancel the S-class warrant. They'll compensate the Wesley family for what they confiscated."
"And if they refuse?"
"Then I'll make the Mutant Affairs Department history."
His tone wasn't dramatic. It was matter-of-fact.
He had assumed completing the One-Winged Angel (II) mission would push Sephiroth's template fusion beyond fifty percent. It hadn't. That meant he needed something more significant—something decisive.
And more than that, he was simply tired of being hunted.
"Are you declaring war?" Pietro asked, brows drawn tight.
"The war started three months ago," Richard replied. "This is just the next phase."
Before Pietro could respond, the television mounted on the restaurant wall abruptly switched to breaking news.
"Ten minutes ago, the Mutant Affairs Department held an emergency press conference," the anchor announced. "They have officially initiated the highest-level capture directive against S-class fugitives Eric Lensherr and Richard Wesley."
Images of both men flashed on screen.
"Authorities are calling on the public to report any information regarding their whereabouts. According to reports, Richard Wesley engaged in a violent confrontation last night at the Bayfront Park marina in Miami, resulting in multiple mutant fatalities."
"An unidentified SHIELD Quinjet was observed at the scene but did not engage."
"Additionally, since early this morning, several Mutant Affairs Department offices in cities including New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Houston, Chicago, Philadelphia, and Boston have been attacked by members of the Brotherhood of Mutants."
"Casualty numbers have not yet been released."
Murmurs spread through the restaurant.
Several guests glanced from the television to Richard.
Even with sunglasses on, his silver hair was unmistakable.
"They recognize you," Pietro said quietly.
"No," Richard replied. "They won't."
His telepathy expanded outward smoothly, touching each nearby mind. Memories blurred, impressions softened. The guests who had been staring abruptly shifted their focus, conversations resuming naturally as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Within moments, they lost interest entirely.
"Finish your breakfast," Richard said calmly.
…
Washington, D.C.
SHIELD's Triskelion headquarters.
Nick Fury stood behind his desk, facing Natasha, Steve Rogers, and Clint Barton.
"You've seen the press conference," Fury began. "Before it went live, the Minister of the Mutant Affairs Department contacted me personally. They've submitted a formal request for assistance."
He paused briefly.
"Charles Xavier is on his way to their headquarters with Scott Summers."
Natasha exchanged a look with Clint.
Fury continued. "You've all encountered Richard. I want your assessment."
Banner wasn't present. Fury had chosen not to involve him yet. Hulk was powerful, but unpredictable. Natasha and Rogers were trained agents. Barton was disciplined. Banner, despite his intelligence, did not operate within SHIELD's command structure.
Tony Stark wouldn't take orders. Thor wasn't even on Earth.
Natasha spoke first.
"The Mutant Affairs Department overreached," she said evenly. "Cloning Magneto was a calculated provocation. They knew the risk."
She folded her arms.
"SHIELD and the Mutant Affairs Department operate separately. Different jurisdictions. If this were my decision, I'd decline their request. They created this mess."
Her voice remained calm, but her reasoning was deliberate.
Richard had spared her and Banner in San Francisco. That fact wasn't insignificant.
Steve Rogers shook his head immediately.
"I disagree."
His voice carried conviction.
"I don't hate mutants," he said firmly. "But Richard is dangerous."
He stepped forward slightly.
"He's like a nuclear weapon in the wrong hands. He hasn't targeted civilians, but more than fifty mutant agents are dead because of him. Including special forces, that number exceeds three hundred in three months."
His gaze hardened.
"He's as dangerous as Thor or Hulk. Possibly more."
"We cannot ignore that."
Rogers straightened.
"My recommendation is that we accept the request. Coordinate with the Mutant Affairs Department. Capture Richard Wesley and bring him to justice—no matter the cost."
.....
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