The studio lights burned hotter than usual, or perhaps it was just the weight of the moment pressing down on Candace Roberts' shoulders. The air crackled with tension as she leaned forward, her perfectly manicured fingers tightening around the interview notes.
"You're claiming," she began, her voice steady despite the dryness in her throat, "that you have irrefutable proof the current Genoshan government not only exploits its people but came to power through illegitimate means with foreign interference?"
Prince Sai Von Morvayne's jaw clenched, his golden eyes flashing with something raw—anger, grief, the fire of injustice long suppressed. With a dramatic slam, he thrust a sleek black USB drive onto the glass table between them. The sound echoed through the silent studio like a gunshot.
"Yes." His voice was a blade, sharp and unyielding. "In 1985, the so-called 'Republican Government' didn't just overthrow my grandfather's appointed regime—they did so with the bloodied hands of global intelligence agencies!" He tapped the USB. "This contains verified records of CIA, MI6, KGB, and more—all orchestrating Davie Moreau's illegal coup."
The camera zoomed in on the innocuous-looking device. To the millions watching live, it might as well have been a ticking bomb.
Candace's pulse hammered against her earpiece as Roberts' voice crackled through:
"Candace, we're at 500 million live views on Metube. 70% real-time TV ratings. This is history. But if we run this... tomorrow won't be pretty."
She swallowed hard, her mind racing. The evidence could be fake. It could be real. Either way, broadcasting it would paint a target on their backs the size of Manhattan.
"What does Shadow Magina say?" she whispered into her mic.
"They're leaving it to us," Roberts replied. "Full support either way."
Prince Sai lifted the USB, letting it catch the light. "I risked my life to bring this here, Candace. Every intelligence agency on earth would kill to bury it." His gaze burned into hers. "So, I'll ask again—are you ready?"
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Roberts wiped sweat from his brow as screens around him exploded with metrics. "Christ, we're trending in 193 countries."
A junior producer, hands shaking, handed him a tablet. "Sir, the White House just called. Twice."
Roberts snorted. "Tell them we're busy making journalism."
On another monitor, the live comment feed scrolled at blinding speed:
-[USER7843: HOLY SHIT IS THIS REAL???]
- [MutantRightsNow: FINALLY, SOMEONE EXPOSES THEM!]
-[TruthSeeker77: FAKE NEWS! This prince is a fraud!]
The social media manager looked ready to faint. "We've gained two million followers in the last minute."
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The Interview had to be put on stop, as now before all of them a potentially world-shaking conspiracy is about to be unravel. And the proof if it was true and real, it will cause a lot of trouble and mess. Roberts made the call, to put the show into commercials, to talk about the next move.
Roberts exhaled. "Candace... whatever you decide, we ride or die."
Candace stared at the USB, then at the prince. His expression wasn't just that of a royal seeking justice—it was a man who'd lost everything, fighting to reclaim it. She made her choice. Candace inhaled sharply, her manicured nails digging into her palms. The studio lights felt like interrogation beams.
"Fuck it," she muttered under her breath. "Let's shake the world."
"Roll the footage."
Roberts nodded, giving a sharp thumbs-up to the control room. The red "LIVE" sign burned brighter than hellfire.
-----------------
"Your Highness," Candace said, her voice steadier than her shaking hands, "let's review the evidence. Live."
Prince Sai's fingers moved with deliberate precision as he plugged the USB into the laptop. The massive studio screen flickered to life—
—and the collective gasp from the crew could've sucked the oxygen from the room.
"Oh my God..." Candace's whisper broke as classified documents flooded the display.
CIA. KGB. MI6. MOSSAD. Dozens more. But it was the unfamiliar name, that lingered longest on screen: Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Even got their name plastered on the screen. Each perpetrator in the Video were marked and identified by then cross-reference with the existing personnel files from the agents in the evidence files. American nationals, British agents, the screen were spam heavily with information and pictures and profile of the perpetrator.
The prince's voice cut through the stunned silence like a scalpel. "These agencies didn't just fund Moreau's coup—they armed it. Trained it. And in return?"
The screen changed.
Children—Genoshan children—being ripped from hospital incubators. Meta-human families dragged from homes in chains. A warehouse filled with cages; the occupants' mutations visibly harvested like livestock.
"Jesus Christ!" A cameraman retched off-set.
"As per their agreements and payment request, they took Genoshan people, hah~ these children were taken from their homes, hospitals all across Genosha…they ended up in slavery camps, organ harvesting factories….and even worst, become a human experiment subject,"
The prince voice was shaking, holding back sadness and tears as the multiple Videos showed, these people inhumanely treated Genoshan people.
Candace's hands flew to her mouth. The footage timestamp showed dates from last week.
Prince Sai's knuckles whitened around the laptop. "50 million Genoshans. Gone. Not just killed—sold." His voice cracked as the screen displayed an invoice: "Lot #4472: 12 Meta-human juveniles. Viable organs: 34. Payment: $20 million. Buyer: Weapon X Program."
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The studio lights dimmed as if ashamed to illuminate such horrors. When Prince Sai spoke again, his regal bearing had crumbled.
"I ask for no armies," he whispered. "No reparations. Just..." His knees hit the studio floor with a thud that echoed across continents. "Look away. Just this once... look away…all that I asked, is to leave my people alone, I will take it upon myself to fight this injustice! I will decent upon the battlefield alone if I had to! people of the world, all that I asked from you, is to just plead to your government, and asked them to have a slither of humanity and morals, to just step away from my land and my people… I will not ask anyone to fight Genosha war, I will ask for NOTHING! just leave this war and Genosha alone, you owe us that much…please I beg of you,"
the entire world, witness the Last Prince knelt on the floor, hanged his head down, begging. Tears streaked his face, each drop magnified in high-definition for the world to see.
"Let me fight my people's war. You owe us that much."
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In X-Mansion, Westchester—
Logan's claws unsheathed with slicing through the TV screen. "That's my damn barcode on that manifest!"
At Triskelion, SHIELD HQ—
Nick Fury's eye twitched as alarms blared. "Oh. This is bad. Really bad..."
At Genoshan Embassy, London—
Ambassador Kolchenko watched in horror as protesters began scaling the gates. His whiskey tasted like ash.
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Backstage - The Aftermath—
Roberts stared at the monitors—the trending hashtags, the skyrocketing view counts, the outrage spreading like wildfire.
"We Might've just started World War III," he breathed.
Candace wiped her eyes, smearing mascara like war paint. "No. We just ended someone else's."
On screen, Prince Sai remained kneeling—a king brought low, a storm about to rise.
Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, a warship changed course. In a D.C. bunker, emergency protocols activated. And in the heart of Genosha, a dictator's phone rang with calls he'd never answer. The world held its breath. The reckoning had come.