The streets of Manhattan no longer felt like home.
It was early morning when Dr. Soren Macaluso unlocked the glass doors of his modest clinic.
The buzz of lights flickered overhead, but his attention was stolen by the thunder of voices rolling in from the avenue.
He paused, frowning, as a parade, no, a protest, moved past the storefront.
Dozens of Mutants, their faces painted with color-coded symbols, chanted in unison:
"We are not a disease!"
"Mutation is not a mistake!"
"No forced cure!"
Banners flapped in the cold spring wind.
Some were simple cardboard cutouts, others were beautifully hand-painted with DNA helixes woven into angel wings or clenched fists.
Soren sighed, rubbing his temple.
"Third time this week."
A teenager, her eyes glowing faintly violet, noticed him watching. She broke rank from the crowd and walked up to the door.
"Doc Macaluso!" She said, grinning faintly, "Thought you said you weren't political."
"I'm not." He looked her over. "You been sleeping, Jules?"
She scoffed. "Who's got time to sleep when they're hunting you down with needles?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Everyone had heard the rumors.
Voluntary injections, they claimed, until someone's cousin disappeared from school, or a friend was dragged out of their apartment in the middle of the night.
Inside the clinic, the TV on the wall flickered to life with morning news.
A blonde anchor smiled too brightly, reading from her teleprompter:
"...as the Mutant Antidote continues nationwide rollout, approval ratings for the policy have reached a new high."
"Officials maintain the injections are strictly voluntary, though sources close to the Department of Homeland Integrity have confirmed recent enforcement activity in—"
Soren turned the volume down.
Across the city, in a high-rise office with glass walls and an artificial view of Central Park, Senator Leland Blackwell stood before a large digital screen.
It displayed a still image of a small girl sitting alone in a sterile white room, tubes protruding from her arms.
"She doesn't even know what she is." said Blackwell, his voice low and almost reverent. "But her blood is the future."
"One drop suppresses any X-Gene within twenty feet. We're sitting on the solution."
Across from him, General Stane frowned.
"At what cost?"
Blackwell's lip curled. "Cost is relative when we're talking about survival. The public is afraid."
"We're giving them peace of mind."
Meanwhile, deep in the woods of upstate New York, in the metallic halls of a hidden sanctuary, Erik Lehnsherr stared at a data tablet displaying the same image.
"A child."
"They're using a child."
He flung the tablet across the room with a flick of his wrist, metal groaning in response.
A younger Mutant caught it before it shattered against the wall. His face was pale.
"They say it's voluntary…"
Magneto turned, eyes burning. "Then why do so many disappear without a trace?"
"Why do the prisons have new wings with no records? Why does the antidote exist at all, if not to remind us what they fear most… power?"
He stepped away, cloak trailing behind him.
He felt the wind rush over his face and the weight of countless futures in his spine.
He was not what he once was. He couldn't afford to be.
Gone were the days when metal bent like silk before him and bullets were a joke.
Now the humans carried polymer slugs laced with suppressants, neurotoxins keyed to x-genes, non-metallic inhibitors that stripped him bare of power for seconds that felt like eternity.
He didn't show fear. But he felt it. Deep, corrosive.
And he hated it.
Behind him, Mystique or Raven, as only a few still called her, stepped forward, a folder in her gloved hands.
"I finally cracked it." Her voice taut.
"Took longer than I wanted. They encrypted the files at a triple-military level, but nothing stays hidden forever."
She flipped open the dossier and laid it on a nearby crate.
The first image, a child, maybe nine or ten, sitting cross-legged in a sterile white room. Pale skin. Eyes like dull quartz. A look of blank exhaustion.
Magneto's eyes narrowed. "She looks... empty."
"She is." Raven tapped the image.
"But don't let it fool you. Her ability is passive. Always active."
"Anyone with a mutated gene loses their power just by standing near her."
Magneto studied the photo, silent. "Where?"
"Worsington Lab. Heavily guarded."
Raven pulled out more photos, grainy surveillance stills of guards in Hazmat suits, injector rigs, research chambers lined with lead and glass.
"She's not a subject, Erik. She's the source. Every dose of that goddamn antidote comes from her blood."
"Without her…"
"They have nothing."
Raven nodded. "No threat."
He exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the sea of mutants beginning to murmur below the cliffs. Some were old friends.
Others, angry, lost, dangerous, were pulled from government black sites in shackles barely an hour ago.
He turned one of the last pages in the file. Mugshots.
Mystique stepped beside him, smiling with a certain vicious pride. "I found them. All of them."
"Some of the most dangerous mutants they locked up."
"You think they'll follow me?" Magneto asked quietly.
She shrugged. "They don't need to like you. Just need to hate the world more."
Magneto closed the folder. He faced the crowd now.
The wind picked up again.
"Brothers. Sisters." His voice carried through a speaker, but it needed none.
It was his presence that pulled attention like gravity. "The humans offer us an antidote."
"A cure."
"They want us to be less."
"To crawl back into their cages and smile as they lock the door."
Boos. Growls. Someone threw a knife into the dirt.
He raised his voice.
"But I say, we are the antidote."
"Our blood, our rage, our existence is the only cure for the sickness they call order."
"They say we are dangerous? We'll show them what danger truly looks like!"
The crowd howled.
"They send soldiers to hunt us, we'll hunt back."
"They use weapons to silence us, we'll rip the weapons from their hands."
His hands rose.
"Make no mistake. From this moment forward, we are not on the defensive."
"We are not hiding in shadows. We are not asking for mercy. We are going to end this farce."
"We are going to end the antidote."
"And anyone, human or mutant, who stands in our way... will understand what it means to face the Brotherhood of Mutants."
A roar erupted. Some began chanting.
Others banged weapons or clashed their powers against the sky, fire, ice, magnetic pulses lighting the treetops.
Raven stood behind him, watching Magneto's silhouette glow against the clouds.
"You sure they're ready for war?"
Magneto didn't look back. "They don't need to be ready. They just need to be angry enough."
"I'll handle the rest."
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream