At noon, inside a secured military facility, William Stryker finally had a moment to himself.
He leaned back in a rigid steel chair and turned on the television.
The book launch had been everywhere for the past month. Even someone like him—someone who usually ignored media hype—had grown curious.
So he watched.
And like millions of others, his interest quickly turned into something sharper.
So this is what he's been building, Stryker thought, eyes narrowing slightly.
The demonstration alone was enough to raise his pulse. The implications were obvious—power that could be learned, transferred, weaponized.
Useful, he decided.
Even if Noah Vale leaned toward protecting mutants, that didn't mean the system itself couldn't be repurposed.
Then the camera shifted.
A wider shot.
And Stryker froze.
"…Xavier?"
His posture straightened instantly.
There, in the crowd—
Professor Charles Xavier.
The man Stryker had spent years hunting.
"What is he doing there?" Stryker muttered.
Then it clicked.
Of course.
Noah Vale. Publicly sympathetic to mutants.
It made perfect sense.
And that meant—
An opportunity.
Stryker stood immediately.
He didn't hesitate.
Within minutes, a group of officers assembled in front of him.
"Do you see him?" Stryker said, pointing at the screen. "That's Xavier."
His voice turned cold.
"Locate him. Capture him."
A pause.
"Quietly. No spectacle. And do not draw Noah Vale's attention."
The room stiffened.
"Yes, sir."
The officers moved out at once.
Stryker turned to his remaining aides.
"What about the blue one?" he asked.
"Under control," one replied. "Conditioned. Ready when needed."
Stryker nodded slowly.
"Good."
His eyes flicked back to the screen.
"When Xavier is secured… release it."
The aide hesitated. "Target?"
"The President."
Silence.
Then Stryker smiled faintly.
"A mutant attack on the President will do exactly what we need," he said. "Fear. Anger. Unity."
His voice hardened.
"And after that… we finish it."
A slow breath.
"Every last one of them."
The room felt colder.
"This time," Stryker said quietly, "we win."
Back at the reception, Noah checked the time.
Still a couple of hours before his plans that evening.
Earlier than expected, he thought. Might as well kill some time.
Then—
The noise reached him.
Faint at first.
Then louder.
Chanting.
"NOAH! NOAH! NOAH!"
Outside, a crowd had gathered.
Not dozens.
Not hundreds.
Thousands.
People who had watched the livestream had come in person, drawn by something they couldn't quite explain.
Excitement.
Hope.
Desperation.
It all blurred together into one thing—
Fervor.
George Stacy approached him, his expression serious.
"You might want to take a look," he said. "They're not leaving."
As police commissioner, he'd already deployed officers to maintain order. But even that had limits.
"They're asking for you," George added.
Noah glanced toward the windows.
Then nodded.
"Alright."
Before heading out, he turned back toward the room.
"Everyone," he said casually, "this is Commissioner George Stacy. He's been keeping this city running long before today—and he's helped me more than once."
That was all it took.
Rodriguez stepped forward immediately, gripping George's hand.
"Men like you are why cities function," the Vice President said.
Others followed.
Praise. Recognition. Compliments layered one after another.
George stood there, stunned.
He'd spent his entire career working for moments like this—
And yet he knew, deep down, this wasn't about him.
This was Noah's influence.
Nothing more.
Noah stepped beside him.
"Come on," he said lightly. "Let's go meet your crowd."
Moments later, Noah stood by an open window.
The noise from outside was deafening now.
He smiled slightly.
Then—
He moved.
Two quick steps.
A leap.
Gasps erupted behind him as he dropped from the third floor.
But he didn't fall.
Not really.
Violet energy surged outward, spreading beneath him like a drifting cloud. His descent slowed instantly, his body carried by something unseen.
From below, it looked almost unreal.
Like gravity had simply… stopped applying.
He floated down, steady and controlled, until his feet touched the ground.
And the crowd—
Lost it.
Cheers erupted, overwhelming everything else. People surged forward, drawn by the sight alone.
Noah raised a hand.
"Hey," he said calmly. "Let's keep this under control."
They didn't.
They couldn't.
Some tried to push closer—only to stop short, blocked by an invisible barrier of energy.
Still—
They didn't seem disappointed.
If anything, it made things worse.
Hands reached out, pressing against the barrier, as if touching something sacred.
Others dropped to their knees.
Not one.
Not two.
Dozens.
Heads lowered.
Voices trembling.
It wasn't just admiration anymore.
It was belief.
And in that moment—
Rational thought didn't stand a chance.