It was still the same room.
Still the same three people.
Joseph lounged back comfortably on the leather sofa, appearing completely at ease.
In contrast, Grant King and Evelyn Shaw lay sprawled on the floor like broken dolls, drenched in sweat as if they'd just been pulled out of a storm drain. Their faces remained frozen in sheer, unfiltered horror. Even now, minutes after the soul-shattering encounter, they trembled.
"You devil…" Grant King whispered, voice hoarse.
His eyes, once cold and ruthless, now brimmed with fear—real, primal fear. This man, who had once clawed his way to the top of the underworld with blood and ruthless efficiency, who made backroom deals and slaughtered rivals, had never—never—been more terrified in his life.
And yet, not a single scratch had been left on his body.
It was his soul that had been violated.
Completely dominated.
It was like being locked in a small, pitch-black room, only to stare helplessly at an exact copy of himself—standing obediently in front of Joseph like a puppet on strings, obeying his every command.
The questions had poured out of Joseph with terrifying clarity:
Who works for you? How many drug dens and arms caches do you control? What territories and trafficking routes are under your command? Who launders your money? Who does your killing? Where is the cash hidden? Who backed your attempt to infiltrate the Oasis project?
Everything.
All his secrets had been dragged into the light by his own mouth.
And the worst part? He could do nothing to stop it.
It was a fate more humiliating than being stripped naked and paraded through the streets. In that moment, had Joseph ordered him to bash his own skull open, Grant was sure—absolutely sure—he would have done it without hesitation.
He finally understood what Joseph meant when he said, "The superheroes you've met before were too gentle."
This man…
He was worse than a demon from hell.
Joseph didn't even need to kill him. Instead, he raised a hand, and several glowing screens appeared on the wall. On them played scenes of Phoenix and the other Mutants storming and dismantling his criminal empire, one base at a time.
They forced him to watch it crumble.
"Speaking of which," Joseph said nonchalantly, "I should thank you."
He looked calm, even polite, as he went on, "You gave the Mutants a great opportunity to earn some reputation."
His voice was light, almost playful, as if they were just having a casual chat over tea.
"The biggest underworld syndicate built on dirty contracts, extortion, human trafficking... You tortured how many people over the years, Mr. King? I wonder how many of your victims will thank me when they see the news?"
The screens changed, now displaying X-Men teams taking coordinated action across the city.
Storm led one squad composed of six top-ranking students—Pyro, Bishop, and others close to graduation.
Cyclops' team included Nightcrawler and five other adult first-year recruits.
One member, codenamed Thunderbird, had enhanced strength, speed, durability, and exceptional sensory perception.
Another, Beautiful Dream, could manipulate people's memories.
Then there were the Cuckoo Sisters—triplets with rare, synchronized telepathy. Together, they operated with stunning potential.
Thanks to their combined abilities, Grant King's second-largest New York base was crushed in under an hour.
And it didn't stop there.
Elsewhere, Siryn led another team featuring Multiple Man, Arc Light, and Juggernaut—all powerful Mutants well-known even among the general public.
Gambit captained his own strike force with Angel, Eclipse (who could manipulate light), Impulse (who released pulse waves), and Reva (capable of emitting devastating ultrasonic screams).
But it was Mystique's team that impressed the most. She needed no help.
Her transformation powers allowed her to infiltrate a major base alone. In just ten minutes, she'd broken in, dismantled their defenses, and walked out without breaking a sweat.
"Teacher, we didn't even get a workout," her teammates joked, staring at each other, completely dumbfounded.
Watching these scenes unfold, Grant King's despair turned to rage.
He finally understood. Joseph had used his criminal empire as nothing more than a training ground for new X-Men recruits!
"AAAHHHHHH—!"
Grant let out a roar of anger and defiance. His body shook as he forced himself upright, teeth clenched.
"The X-Men's law enforcement jurisdiction only applies to Mutants! You're killing people and breaking into private property! Do you think this will go unnoticed by the world? Do you not fear the backlash?"
Joseph glanced at him lazily.
"What's there to be afraid of?" he asked. "If criminals resist arrest and get killed in the process, that's just unfortunate. Standard law enforcement protocol, no?"
Grant's words caught in his throat.
"You still don't understand..." Joseph said with a sigh. "Since the formation of the Mutant Affairs Bureau, the X-Men now have law enforcement authority over any criminal activity involving Mutants."
He looked directly into Grant King's soul.
"Your top lieutenants—Bullseye and Prowler—aren't normal humans, are they?"
Grant's face turned deathly pale. "They… They're not Mutants! The ones you found in the building have nothing to do with me!"
"Oh? You say they aren't Mutants?"
Joseph's lips curled into a mocking smile.
"Fine. Let's pretend none of your people are Mutants. Let's pretend none of them were genetically modified or artificially enhanced..."
He leaned forward.
"But what about you?"
Grant froze.
"I'm… me?"
"You have more than 90% muscle density across your body. One punch from you breaks through concrete walls. And you expect me to believe you're just a well-trained ordinary man?"
Joseph stood and towered over him.
"Anyone with eyes can tell you're beyond human. And here's the beauty of it—if the X-Men say you're a Mutant, then you're a Mutant."
Grant began trembling uncontrollably. "No… It depends on whether the X-gene is actually—"
"That's where you're wrong," Joseph cut him off coldly.
"You people have never truly understood Mutants."
His voice lowered into a growl.
"Ninety percent of humanity has the X-gene in them. A Mutant is simply someone whose gene has been activated."
Grant collapsed again, silent.
He realized then that there was no escape.
The Mutant Affairs Bureau could now legally declare anyone a Mutant and take enforcement action. Whether or not the gene was active didn't matter. As long as Joseph said you were one—it was enough.
Grant's entire worldview shattered.
"Tomorrow morning," Joseph said casually, "you'll walk up to the NYPD headquarters with your loyal followers and turn yourself in. You'll spend the rest of your life in prison."
He even smiled as he said it, like a teacher patiently explaining tomorrow's homework.
"Oh, and all your criminal evidence, your dealings, your bank records, those cozy contracts involving Oasis... All of that will be handed over to them. Wrapped up nicely."
Grant's eyes bulged. "The people behind me… the sponsors… you can't—"
"I'm supposed to curry favor with them?" Joseph interrupted. "Bribe them? Let them infiltrate my people and pretend to be allies?"
He scoffed.
"If Mutants are willing to give, they can take. But if I don't give it to them…"
His voice dropped to a whisper:
"They can't take a damn thing."
Grant felt like he'd been struck by lightning. In that instant, he realized something horrifying.
This young man wasn't just a Mutant.
He was an emperor. A tyrant. A conqueror.
More ruthless and cunning than any crime boss. More powerful than any politician.
"Hahaha… you're handing us over?"
Evelyn Shaw, silent all this time, began to cackle like a madwoman. Her laughter echoed off the walls, brittle and terrifying.
"You think you've won because you're playing by their rules? Because you'll deliver us to the NYPD? Don't you see? You're becoming just like us!"
Her eyes glittered with hatred.
"If Mutants want to join the system, they'll be shackled by it! You'll be no different than the humans you despise!"
Joseph regarded her with disdain.
"Don't worry," he said coldly. "You're still going to die."
Evelyn froze.
"This isn't about mercy. It's about deterrence. Your corpses will serve as a warning to others."
He leaned closer, kneeling beside her and whispering into her ear.
"But before that, you still have a bit of value left to squeeze."
Then, he stood up again and added one final sentence:
"Oh—and I'm very glad the headquarters of your Hand organization is in Japan."
His eyes gleamed with calm fury.
"Because when the meteor storm hits…
I won't feel the slightest guilt."
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