Whether it was Anna sitting across from Richard, the studio staff frozen behind the cameras, or the millions of viewers watching from their living rooms, the reaction was the same. Shock.
Had he just threatened the entire country on live television? Was he declaring himself an enemy of the world?
But while ordinary citizens stared in disbelief, another group reacted very differently. Across the United States, mutants watching the broadcast felt something close to exhilaration.
For days, they had endured headlines branding their most powerful representative a murderer. Some had worried that the pressure would force him to soften. That the endless banquets and public appearances had dulled him.
They were wrong.
Richard hadn't changed. If anything, he was more domineering than ever.
Anna recovered quickly, her professional instincts kicking in. She leaned forward slightly and pressed the issue. "Mr. Wesley, you just stated that you killed the director and deputy director of the Mutant Affairs Department, as well as Captain America Steve Rogers. Are you admitting to crimes?"
Richard smiled faintly. "Crime?" He tilted his head. "It seems I need to clarify something."
He spoke slowly, his voice measured. "Law is nothing more than a tool created by the ruling class to maintain its own authority. The laws you refer to are written by politicians in Washington to govern ordinary citizens like you."
He leaned back slightly. "The day I set fire to the Wesley family manor with my own hands, I made a decision. Even if I die in battle, I will never accept anyone's rule."
His gaze hardened. "I do not believe I committed a crime. I do not recognize the authority of officials to judge me. No one has the qualification to judge me except myself. Not humans. Not gods."
He placed a hand against his chest. "My life. My decision."
The implication was unmistakable. He wasn't merely rejecting legal responsibility. He was denying the legitimacy of the government's authority entirely.
Anna's expression tightened. "But you did take lives."
"Yes," Richard replied calmly. "From the perspective of depriving others of life, I killed people. And?"
He didn't wait for her to answer.
"Tell me, on this land, how many lives have been taken? You're all Americans. I don't need to remind you who originally owned this continent."
The studio felt suffocatingly still.
"The indigenous people weren't strong enough. So they were massacred. Their land was taken. A regime was established on top of their bones."
His tone remained flat, almost conversational. "Before. After. Even now. Your officials have taken far more lives than I ever have. If I am guilty, they are infinitely more guilty."
He lifted a hand slightly. "You can call it justification. You can call it sophistry. That's your business. It has nothing to do with me."
His eyes sharpened.
"Rules are written by the strong."
The words hung heavy in the air.
"I am stronger than any of you. I haven't written rules for you yet. You should be grateful."
He glanced briefly at the camera clock. "It's 8:06 PM. Let me show you what it means when I say my rules are rules."
His voice grew colder.
"First. All mutants have the right to freely use their abilities. The Mutant Restriction Act must be repealed within twelve hours."
"Second. The Mutant Affairs Department must be disbanded within twelve hours."
"Third. Any research, development, manufacturing, or distribution of drugs or weapons targeting mutants is a direct provocation toward me."
He paused.
"I do not show mercy to those who provoke me."
"You have twelve hours to decide whether you will follow my rules."
"If you comply, I have no problem coexisting peacefully."
"If you don't…"
His gaze became glacial.
"I will accompany you to the end."
The next instant, he vanished.
…
Washington, D.C.S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion Headquarters.
Nick Fury stood in his office with Natasha and Hawkeye, watching the live feed. The moment Richard disappeared from the studio, Fury felt a tightening in his chest.
He had survived for decades by trusting his instincts. And his instincts were screaming.
Before he could speak, space distorted in the middle of his office. Richard appeared.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Natasha and Hawkeye stiffened. Fury's single visible eye narrowed.
Richard didn't waste time.
"Kingpin told me the Mutant Affairs Department is preparing to capture me. S.H.I.E.L.D. and the military are involved."
He stepped forward slightly. "Whether that department exists tomorrow depends on Washington."
He raised a finger. "But before that, I want something from you."
His gaze locked onto Fury.
"Give me the Cosmic Cube. And your head."
The room fell silent.
"If you refuse," Richard continued calmly, "no one in this building survives tonight."
Natasha took a step forward. "Richard, we—"
A violent impact cut her off. She flew backward as if struck by a speeding vehicle, slamming into the wall. Blood spilled from her lips as she collapsed.
Richard didn't even glance at her. "Just because I have a favorable impression of Banner doesn't mean I have one of you."
He turned back to Fury. "Answer."
Fury studied him carefully. There was no bluff.
"Barton," Fury said quietly, "retrieve the Cube."
Hawkeye hesitated only briefly before leaving.
Richard sat casually on the sofa, as though waiting for room service.
"Before he returns," Fury said slowly, "may I speak?"
"If it's a last statement, save it. If it's something else, go ahead."
Fury exhaled. "We thought indulgence would dull you. That comfort would make you manageable."
Richard laughed softly. "You didn't underestimate me. You overestimated yourselves."
"You've mistaken temporary dominance for inherent superiority."
Fury frowned. "This is still your country."
"No," Richard interrupted. "It never was."
Minutes later, Hawkeye returned with a silver case. Inside lay the Cosmic Cube.
Richard extended his hand toward it, then paused. "You're about to die. Won't you inform that woman?"
Fury's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Captain Marvel.
"When she needs to return," he said evenly, "she will."
Richard nodded once. "Then you can die."
The Yamato Blade flashed. Fury's head separated cleanly from his body.
Silence filled the office.
Richard took the Cube, confirmed its authenticity with a glance, and stored it away. Then he teleported out, leaving Hawkeye and Natasha staring at Fury's corpse.
…
The next morning. Silver Manor.
Richard watched the news while eating breakfast.
Congress had dissolved the Mutant Affairs Department at 7:03 AM. The President signed the repeal of the Mutant Restriction Act at 7:26. Trask Industries announced the shutdown of its weapons and pharmaceutical divisions. X-gene cure programs were halted.
He smiled faintly.
In the face of life and death, arrogance disappeared quickly.
He knew public perception had shifted. To most ordinary Americans, he was now the ultimate villain. A tyrant who imposed his will through fear.
It didn't bother him. He had never aimed to be a beloved hero.
Half a month passed peacefully for him. For Washington, it was a nightmare. Mutants, newly liberated, began asserting themselves. Nothing catastrophic, but enough to keep officials anxious.
One afternoon, in the reception room of Silver Manor, Kingpin sat across from Richard and the White Queen. Several suitcases were placed on the table.
"Mr. Wesley," Kingpin said respectfully, gesturing for his men to open them. "These are the dragon bones from the Five Fingers of the Hand. Please see if they satisfy you."
.....
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