"A-level wanted warrant?"
After hearing Cyclops's report, Professor X immediately frowned.
"The Los Angeles branch issued a Class A warrant days ago. Why weren't we notified immediately?" Xavier's voice carried an uncharacteristic edge. "According to our agreement, after issuing an A-level warrant, they should contact us as soon as possible and seek our input."
Though he had failed to prevent the Mutant Restriction Act from passing, Charles Xavier hadn't been as passive as rumors suggested. The Department of Mutant Affairs and the X-Men maintained a confidential agreement—one with relatively few, but significant clauses.
One stipulation required the Department to immediately notify the X-Men after issuing any Class A warrant and inquire whether the X-Men wished to participate in the capture operation. If the X-Men joined, any apprehended mutants would be remanded to their custody first. The X-Men would then determine whether incarceration in a mutant prison was truly necessary.
If the wanted mutant showed potential for rehabilitation, the X-Men would take responsibility for their reformation.
Xavier's motivation for including this clause had been straightforward: limit the Department's authority while preserving resources within the mutant community. An A-level warrant was second only to an S-level in severity. Regardless of why a mutant landed on the A-level wanted list, their presence there indicated one thing clearly—they represented the elite of mutantkind. Simply put, ordinary mutants didn't even qualify for Class A status.
Cyclops sighed heavily before responding.
"It's not just the Los Angeles branch, Professor. None of the Department's branch are honoring the terms of our agreement," he explained. "They only grudgingly forward information about wanted targets after we discover their existence ourself."
Despite possessing the world's most formidable telepathic abilities, Xavier still occasionally overestimated human nature. No organization welcomed external interference in its internal operations. The X-Men resisted government meddling in their affairs, and likewise, the Department of Mutant Affairs resented X-Men involvement in their capture missions.
Even with a formal agreement in place, resistance remained inevitable.
"How long has this been happening?" Xavier asked, his frown deepening.
"Since the agreement was signed," Cyclops replied without hesitation. "It's always been this way."
Xavier's expression darkened considerably.
"Why wasn't I informed? I could have approached the Minister directly and demanded strict adherence to protocol."
"Professor, it's not that we didn't want to tell you, but..." Cyclops trailed off, leaving his thought incomplete.
"But what?" Xavier pressed. "Scott, I'd rather not use telepathy on you."
Hearing Xavier's words, Cyclops unconsciously clenched his fists. After staring at his mentor for several seconds, he finally spoke.
"Professor, do you know how the public views us since the Mutant Restriction Act passed?" Cyclops asked, his voice tight with restrained emotion. "People now call the X-Men government lapdogs—only good for wagging our tails at officials while turning against our own kind. They even call this school a 'training facility' for conditioning mutants into official pets."
Under normal circumstances, Cyclops would never speak to Professor X this way. Though he hadn't fully understood Xavier's reluctance to strongly oppose the Mutant Restriction Act, he had chosen to trust his mentor's judgment. However, as time passed, his confidence in that choice had eroded.
Cyclops didn't deny that Xavier was a good man—one who had dedicated his entire life to advancing the mutant cause. But the undeniable reality was that since the Act's implementation, discrimination against mutants hadn't diminished—it had intensified. The legislation had effectively relegated all mutants to second-class status.
"Scott, do you also believe I made a mistake?" Xavier asked, his gaze unwavering. "That I shouldn't have acquiesced to the bill's passage?"
"I don't know, Professor. I honestly don't know," Cyclops admitted.
"What I do know is that discrimination against mutants has worsened, the X-Men's reputation has deteriorated, and our student enrollment continues to decline." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I also know that after seeing the videos and current broadcast of Richard fighting the Los Angeles branch agents, I don't view him as irredeemably evil. If anything, I feel sympathy toward him."
"Before coming to your office, I researched their background in our database. They haven't committed any crime beyond failing to register under the new law. Roy Wesley is a respected philanthropist in Los Angeles—establishing charitable foundations for disadvantaged groups and consistently supporting public welfare initiatives."
"Even after founding 'Crimson Manor,' he never allowed its residents to engage in radical or harmful activities. He simply provided sanctuary to mutants in need of assistance."
"And despite being born into wealth, Richard Wesley doesn't indulge in the excesses typical of privileged heirs. He doesn't even drive a sports car—just an ordinary Ford."
"Yet what's become of them? Roy Wesley arrested, Richard Wesley wanted, all their assets seized and frozen." Cyclops's voice rose with indignation. "Were they trafficking drugs? Humans? Funding terrorism? No—nothing. They simply wanted to live normal lives and help those in need."
"Honestly, Professor, if I were in Richard Wesley's position, I might react even more extremely than he has."
Xavier hadn't anticipated such passionate opposition from Cyclops, who had always embodied stoic leadership. The depth of his field commander's dissatisfaction with both the Mutant Restriction Act and the current status quo was unmistakable.
After several moments of contemplative silence, Xavier addressed Cyclops with renewed purpose.
"Contact Jean, Logan, and Ororo. The four of you will depart for Los Angeles immediately and bring Richard and Victor back with you."
"If anyone from the Department attempts to interfere, inform them this directive comes directly from me, Charles Xavier. Should they object, their Minister can address their concerns to me personally."
Cyclops stared in astonishment. He had expected Xavier to defend the necessity of mutant registration or explain how the Department's existence facilitated peaceful human-mutant coexistence. Instead, the Professor had authorized a direct intervention against the Department's interests.
"Professor, I..." Cyclops faltered, momentarily speechless.
"Whatever you wish to discuss can wait until after you've retrieved them," Xavier replied kindly, as though the gravity of his instruction warranted no further explanation.
"Understood. I'll inform the team immediately," Cyclops nodded respectfully before turning to leave the office.
At the Brotherhood of Mutants headquarters, Magneto observed the live broadcast with keen interest from his office.
"This young man is quite fascinating," he remarked. "Judging by his demeanor, he won't leave until he's satisfied his appetite for vengeance tonight."
Turning to Mystique seated nearby, he continued, "Raven, take a contingent and determine whether he's interested in joining the Brotherhood."
"He will not join us," Mystique responded immediately.
"You've encountered him before?" Magneto asked, puzzled.
"I have. His name is Richard Wesley, son of Roy Wesley."
Recognition dawned on Magneto's face, replaced quickly by an amused smile.
"Assemble a team regardless. Two months ago, he likely never imagined manifesting powers, much less transforming from a heir to a Class A fugitive."
"Also, relay a message for me—should he join the Brotherhood, I'll personally ensure the Wesley family assets are restored with interest."
Mystique rose from her seat. "I can lead a team there, but I can't guarantee his cooperation. A mutant capable of destroying three Sentinel robots cannot be coerced—unless you intervene personally."
Without awaiting Magneto's response, she departed from the office.
At the Los Angeles Branch, Richard remained oblivious to both Professor X and Magneto dispatching teams to retrieve him. Even if he had known, it wouldn't have altered his plans.
His sole focus remained the arrival of additional mutant agents to complete his mission. He needed eleven more kills to fulfill the system's requirement, and he had no desire to spend the next two days hunting agents individually.
As Los Angeles police and special forces surrounded the branch perimeter, Richard finally spotted the returning mutant agents. He immediately began counting them.
One, two, three... twelve, thirteen, fourteen!
Fourteen mutant agents!
Perfect…..Just perfect.
A satisfied expression crossed Richard's face at the sight. Where other mutants might have grown nervous or contemplated escape when confronted by fourteen trained operatives, Richard felt only anticipation.
For him, their arrival meant not only obtaining Virgil's phantom sword tonight but also the opportunity to harvest valuable new powers.
Under the watchful gaze of news cameras and assembled authorities, Richard rose from his makeshift "throne" of Sentinel wreckage and pulled the Masamune from where it stood embedded in the ground.
After executing a casual flourish with the blade, he whispered to himself:
"Now then… shall we begin the dance!"
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