The Blackbird jet sliced through the sky at high altitude, a dark shadow against the clouds as it raced toward its destination. Inside the aircraft, tension and anticipation hung thick in the air—but for Eddie Bu Locke, it was the thrill of opportunity that had his heart racing.
Sitting near the back, Eddie could barely contain himself. His fingers drummed anxiously on his knees, and a foolish grin played across his face. His request had been granted—he would be allowed to communicate with the Global Daily as soon as they arrived at the scene.
The Global Daily wasn't just any newspaper. It was a media titan, a contender on the same level as the Bugle Daily and Planet Daily. With its own dedicated news channel and a colossal viewer base, it was the perfect platform for what was about to unfold.
Eddie could already imagine it: his face lighting up TV screens across the country, narrating the live arrest of the assassin who had attempted to kill the President. A story of this magnitude? It was guaranteed to go viral.
He could barely sit still from the excitement.
"This broadcast is going to break viewership records… The ratings will be through the roof!"
He muttered to himself under his breath, heart thudding with anticipation.
"After this, those bloodsuckers up the corporate ladder won't be able to block my promotion anymore. No way. The kind of exposure this story brings—it'll practically force them to double my salary."
A smile crept wider across his face as he imagined his future:
"With that raise, my mortgage and car loans? Gone. And Annie… if I'm rich and famous, marriage will be a breeze."
Caught in his fantasy, Eddie leaned back and stared at the ceiling of the aircraft, gratitude welling in his chest.
"And it's all thanks to Mr. Joseph," he whispered. He hadn't met the man yet, but he knew without a doubt that none of this would have happened without him.
He suspected that Joseph might be a Mutant—maybe even the leader of these X-Men. That part didn't bother him. What did confuse him was the man's continued absence. Why hadn't Joseph revealed himself yet?
His thoughts were interrupted when the Blackbird suddenly decelerated.
"We're here!" Storm, who was piloting the jet, announced. She turned to the group seated behind her, her expression calm but firm. "This is the coordinate the professor provided. I'll stay behind to monitor the area. You all know what to do—be quick."
"Five minutes. That's all I need," Wolverine growled. He bit down on the cigar in his mouth, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity.
Ever since regaining his lost memories and having that private conversation with Joseph, Logan had been itching for this moment. His adamantium claws were practically begging to be unleashed.
The target location was an abandoned church tucked away in a forgotten corner of the city.
As the ramp of the Blackbird opened with a low hiss, the team emerged in formation. Cyclops, Phoenix, and Wolverine led the way, their bodies taut with focus and discipline. Behind them came Detective Catherine Beckett, flanked by half a dozen NYPD agents. And trailing at the very end was Eddie Bu Locke, clutching his camera like it was a golden ticket.
The moment his feet touched the church's dusty stone floor, Eddie set up the camera equipment with practiced ease. Fingers flying across the buttons, he initiated the connection with the Global Daily newsroom.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Eddie Bu Locke, reporting live—yes, live—from the front lines of what may be the most important arrest in modern history," he said breathlessly, adjusting his earpiece. "As you may know, the X-Men issued a bold statement just thirty minutes ago—vowing to capture the assassin who targeted the President, within twenty-four hours."
He paced slowly forward, the camera trailing behind him on a stabilizer.
"And twenty minutes ago, acknowledging their lack of law enforcement authority, the X-Men formally reported the crime to the NYPD. Detective Catherine Beckett was assigned to lead the collaborative task force. And now… we're here."
His voice dropped to a reverent hush.
"This—this abandoned church is believed to be the hiding place of the assassin."
The footage streamed straight to Global Daily's control room, where producers and anchors scrambled to react.
"Why is this live footage cutting into our schedule?"
"Who authorized this?!"
But then they saw the live video. And more importantly, they heard Eddie's voice.
"The X-Men are conducting a joint arrest with the NYPD… and we're broadcasting the entire operation?!"
The outrage turned to awe in an instant.
Phones rang. Producers yelled. And viewers? They exploded.
People who'd been watching cooking shows or daytime dramas suddenly found themselves riveted to a breaking news story—one that had never been seen before. A real-time capture of a presidential assassin… involving mutants?
Social media caught fire. Viewership numbers doubled, then tripled. Eddie's boss stared at the analytics board, his jaw hanging slack.
Meanwhile, Eddie kept up his narration, pretending to be composed while trembling with nerves.
The thought that chilled him was simple: The person hiding in this church tried to kill the President.
Suddenly, a quiet chanting echoed through the chamber. The camera panned left. And there, in the center of the church, kneeling beneath a broken cross, was a Mutant—his entire body covered in blue fur, with glowing yellow eyes and a long, curling tail. It was Nightcrawler.
Hands clasped, he prayed fervently in whispered tones.
The contradiction stunned Eddie. He had expected a cold-blooded assassin. Instead, this looked like a monk begging for redemption.
"What's he saying?" Eddie muttered, adjusting the camera mic. "Something about… sin? He's confessing?"
"I didn't mean to appear at the White House," Nightcrawler's voice came through in fragments. "I didn't want anyone to die…"
The viewers were perplexed, their opinions wavering.
Cyclops stepped forward. "Sir, we are with the NYPD," he said evenly.
Catherine nodded and raised her firearm, stepping in to assist. "You're suspected of infiltrating the White House and attempting to assassinate the President. You're under arrest—"
But before she could finish, Nightcrawler vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Teleportation!" Cyclops barked.
Everyone looked up. Nightcrawler had reappeared on a high wooden beam.
Without hesitation, Phoenix raised her hand and unleashed a wave of telekinetic energy. Nightcrawler's body froze in midair. Bound by invisible force, he couldn't even twitch a finger.
"Clean capture," Eddie whispered in awe. "Incredible…"
Nightcrawler floated gently back to the ground, suspended by Phoenix's power.
Catherine stepped forward again. "Sir, as stated before—"
BOOM!
The ceiling exploded.
A split second later, metal cylinders rained down. Dozens of grenades clattered across the floor and burst open, releasing thick white smoke.
"Grenades! Smoke bombs!" someone shouted.
A chemical fog spread with unnatural speed, far faster than any commercial-grade device. Within seconds, it filled the church interior. Eddie stumbled back, coughing violently.
"I can't see!"
"Everyone out—"
But it was too late.
The gas wasn't just obscuring vision—it was sedative. One breath and your knees buckled.
In mere moments, the X-Men, Catherine, and her officers collapsed like dominoes, unconscious before they could react.
And Eddie?
He felt himself slip too, his vision blurring and ears ringing, but the camera continued to roll.
Millions of people watching the broadcast were frozen in horror.
"What just happened?!"
"They were ambushed! The X-Men were ambushed?!"
Even those who hated mutants couldn't look away.
Then, out of the haze, heavily armed soldiers stormed in from all sides. Tactical gear, infrared goggles, gas masks. Dozens of them—silent and efficient.
They didn't hesitate. Their weapons aimed at the fallen bodies, and one of them turned toward the camera.
A moment of eye contact.
Then he raised his rifle.
BANG.
The feed cut to static.
But to everyone's shock… the screen didn't go black.
It kept showing.
Something else was broadcasting now—an override feed, bypassing standard transmission.
The viewers were left staring, slack-jawed, as new images began to fade in…
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