"…Did he just say he's going to break all their legs?"
A cold wave of disbelief swept through the balcony.
Susan felt it first—then everyone else. The air seemed to tighten, the weight of Noah's words sinking in all at once. Sweat beaded on foreheads. No one laughed.
Victor forced a strained smile, glancing at Noah.
"You're… joking, right?"
Noah didn't answer.
Instead, one of Kingpin's men calmly pulled out his phone.
The call connected almost instantly.
"Get people to Doom Industries. Five—no, make it ten. I want every protester outside dealt with. Break their legs. All of them."
A pause.
"Yes. Exactly what I said."
Another pause.
"Over two hundred people. Doesn't matter. Every single one."
The man's tone never wavered.
"And listen carefully—wipe the records of the guys you send. Assets, accounts, everything. They're going to prison after this."
A faint hesitation on the other end.
"Because no one's paying compensation," the man said flatly. "That's coming from the boss's boss."
Another beat.
"Don't worry about prison. That'll be handled. Their families will be taken care of. Five, ten years—they'll be brought back out."
The call ended.
Silence.
Behind them, Susan, Johnny, and the others stood frozen. This wasn't something they could process—not really. It was too far removed from anything they'd ever experienced.
Two hundred people.
Not threatened. Not dispersed.
Crippled.
Even in the criminal underworld, this kind of move—out in the open, under cameras—was reckless to the point of insanity.
And yet Kingpin didn't hesitate.
He was all in.
On the balcony, Noah and Kingpin stood side by side, both looking down at the crowd like it was just another problem to solve.
No outrage. No second thoughts.
Just calculation.
Noah tapped the railing lightly, thinking.
"…I should probably keep them here a little longer," he said.
Kingpin blinked. "What?"
"If they lose momentum, they'll start dispersing," Noah said matter-of-factly. "People like this run on emotion. Once it fades, they go home."
He glanced down again.
"Better to give them something to stay angry about."
Kingpin inhaled slowly, a chill creeping up his spine.
Even he had to admit—
That was cold.
"Thorough," Kingpin said, forcing a grin. "Very thorough."
Noah ignored him and turned to Victor.
"Do you have a microphone? Something connected to the building speakers?"
Victor stiffened like he'd been hit with a jolt of electricity.
"I—yes. Yes, of course. I'll get it right away."
He practically bolted, eager for even a few seconds away from Noah.
Behind him, Susan and the others didn't move.
They didn't dare.
Johnny, for once, had nothing to say. If anything, he looked like he wanted to rewind time and keep his mouth shut earlier.
A minute later, Victor returned, slightly out of breath, holding a microphone.
"It's connected to the building system," he said quickly. "Press the red button and they'll hear you clearly."
Noah took it with a small nod. "Thanks."
Victor forced a smile, but inside, the realization had already settled in.
This wasn't a negotiation.
This wasn't even intimidation.
To Noah, they were… irrelevant. Like something he could crush without thinking.
And if they got in his way?
They'd be next.
Ben stood quietly off to the side, emotions tangled. A part of him couldn't help thinking that being pushed off the mission earlier might have been a blessing in disguise.
Noah pressed the button.
A low hum echoed through the speakers.
Outside, the protest had already made the news. Cameras were rolling. Live broadcasts carried the scene across the city—and beyond.
In Xavier's school, students gathered around screens, anger rising as they watched the crowd tear into one of their own.
Professor X watched in silence, his expression heavy.
Magneto's hand tightened around a small metal sphere, his restraint visibly strained.
Elsewhere, Gwen stared at her phone, eyes fixed on the image of Noah—his face plastered across signs, twisted into mockery.
"That's… messed up," she muttered under her breath.
Even Rogue and Smith, watching from the factory floor, fell quiet as the broadcast played.
Then Noah's voice cut through everything.
"Can you hear me down there?"
The crowd paused, thrown off by the sudden announcement.
"Good," Noah continued. "For those of you who need it spelled out—I'm Noah Vale. The mutant you came here to protest."
He leaned slightly over the railing, looking down at them.
"Nice turnout, by the way."
A beat.
"Let's see… we've got every flavor here today."
His tone stayed casual. Almost amused.
"People throwing around slurs like they're going out of style. Real creative."
A few confused looks spread through the crowd.
They hadn't expected this.
Not like this.
Noah tilted his head.
"What's the matter?" he called out. "You showed up to shout at me. I'm just returning the favor."
For a second—
Nothing.
Then it hit.
The crowd erupted.
"You think this is funny?!"
"Get down here!"
"Take back the policy!"
Voices overlapped, anger reigniting—stronger than before. Even the ones who had been drifting toward the edges now surged back in.
The protest wasn't fading anymore.
It was escalating.
On the balcony, Noah watched it all unfold, calm as ever.
Exactly what he wanted.