"Hah! Quicksilver, you've got such a vivid imagination—you'd make a decent fiction writer if you weren't such a disaster in real life."
Mystique's voice was smooth but sharp as glass. She crossed her arms, her yellow eyes narrowing in pure contempt at the man pacing before her. Quicksilver's tantrum was nothing new, but every time, it grated on her nerves. If he weren't Magneto's son, she'd have left him bleeding in the dirt long ago.
The two stood in the Brotherhood's underground hideout, dim light flickering across the damp concrete walls. The air was heavy with failure.
Quicksilver's face twisted. "What's that attitude supposed to mean, huh? You think this is my fault?"
"Maybe try thinking for once," Mystique shot back coldly. "Instead of blaming everyone around you, figure out how we're going to explain this mess to Magneto."
Her words hit him harder than a punch. Around them, the surviving Mutants kept their heads low, pretending not to exist. Even they didn't want to meet Quicksilver's eyes.
The silence only fed his rage. He threw up his hands, spittle flying as he shouted, "How to explain? That's simple! I'll tell him you cowards all ran like rats! You left me to fight that freak, Ryuuto, by myself! That's why I lost! Because you idiots were too scared to back me up!"
His voice cracked into hysteria. Then, like a spoiled child throwing a fit, he lashed out—kicking a crate, punching one of his own subordinates in the shoulder. The man stumbled, clutching his arm, but no one dared to stop him.
Mystique sighed, closed her eyes, and sat down on a pile of rubble, arms folded. Let the boy scream himself empty. The more he talked, the more pathetic he looked.
But before Quicksilver could keep ranting, a harsh bzzt of static filled the air.
A shimmering red hologram flickered to life above the sewer floor.
"...How are things progressing?"
The voice was cold, deep, and metallic—Magneto. Even through a projection, his presence was suffocating. Every Mutant in the room dropped to one knee instantly, heads bowed.
Quicksilver's mouth went dry. Mystique straightened immediately, her calm composure returning.
"M-Master Magneto," she said quickly. "We… encountered unexpected resistance. The X-Men's defenses were tighter than expected. Ryuuto—he—"
"So," Magneto's voice cut in, dripping with venom, "you failed."
Mystique flinched. "The casualties were heavy, yes. But we managed to retreat before—"
"Enough."
The single word hit like a hammer. Even through the flickering light, the fury in Magneto's eyes was unmistakable.
"Your 'retreat' cost me men, time, and strategy," he hissed. "And that human-loving boy, Ryuuto—he still lives. Do you know what that means?"
Quicksilver forced a grin, trying to salvage the situation. "Father, don't be angry! It's not all bad. We hit the X-Men hard this time! They won't—"
"Hit them hard?" Magneto's tone sharpened into a blade. "You lost the fight, my son. You were humiliated by one boy and came crawling back to me, tail between your legs!"
The hologram flickered with magnetic distortion as his fury flared. Sparks erupted from the metal pipes along the wall. The air itself seemed to vibrate with his power.
"You call this a victory? Pathetic. All of you—worthless!"
Magneto's voice thundered through the sewers, his command echoing like judgment. "You'll listen carefully. This failure will not go unanswered. I want Ryuuto—the Red Mirage—brought to me alive. I'll make an example out of him the world won't forget."
The hologram snapped out, leaving only the buzz of fluorescent lights and the thick smell of ozone.
Quicksilver clenched his fists, his pride burning in his throat. Mystique exhaled quietly, the corners of her lips curling into something between pity and satisfaction.
The silence didn't last long.
Above them, in the heart of the city, the top floor of Osborn Corporation was still lit, even past midnight. Inside a private laboratory, beakers and tubes lined the counters, filled with strange glowing liquids.
Norman Osborn leaned over a cluttered workbench, eyes bloodshot, sweat dripping down his face. His pupils glimmered an unnatural crimson as he stared at a syringe filled with a sickly green serum.
He whispered, voice trembling with manic joy, "It's almost done. The formula is perfect. I'll surpass humanity itself…"
Before him, a restrained man lay strapped to a steel table, his mouth gagged with a wad of cotton, eyes wide in terror. He tried to struggle, but the restraints held tight.
Norman raised the syringe like a priest blessing a ritual offering. "Don't fight it. Your sacrifice will be remembered as the dawn of a new era."
The needle plunged into the man's vein.
His body convulsed violently, veins glowing green beneath his skin. His screams were muffled, eyes rolling back as the serum tore through his system. Norman watched, lips curling into a crazed grin.
"Show me," he whispered. "Show me your power."
And somewhere, deep in the city's shadows, the storm that Ryuuto had started was only beginning to spread.
...
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