"Alex, we're heading out to capture Shaw—immediately."
Charles' voice rang out, solemn and steady. He looked Alex straight in the eyes. "You need to understand, this mission won't have the CIA's support. Agent Moira is still suspended. This is an off-the-books operation—just us."
"Whether you choose to come or not, I wanted to make that clear beforehand."
Of course, beneath Charles' calm tone, there was a trace of anticipation in his eyes. He truly wouldn't force Alex to join—but if Alex backed out now, at such a critical moment, Charles couldn't deny he'd be sorely disappointed.
After all, both he and Erik had pinned their hopes on Alex from the very beginning.
"I understand. So—when do we leave?" Alex replied without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It was a golden opportunity for a mission refresh—no way he'd pass that up. Besides, he'd been eating, drinking, and living here for free all this time. If he pretended to be uninvolved now, that'd be seriously low of him.
Sure enough, Charles and Erik both couldn't help showing a subtle smile of relief.
"Get the others too," Erik added from the side.
"Erik, they're not ready yet," Charles said, a bit hesitant.
Truthfully, everyone's training had paid off—there had been considerable progress. But in Charles' eyes, they still hadn't reached the level of true readiness. Even Erik was only just beginning to harness his powers, driven more by sheer rage than control. At most, he could stop bullets in his normal state—nothing more.
Let alone the others.
"Charles, when Shaw attacked the CIA, do you think he stopped to consider whether they were ready or not? The world doesn't wait for anyone to be prepared," Erik said firmly. "In my eyes, they're ready enough."
"Charles, Erik's right," Moira chimed in. "You can't shield them forever. And frankly—we need them."
Charles fell silent.
After a long pause, he finally nodded. "Fine."
He summoned the rest of the mutants and explained the situation—Shaw had been located.
"You all know what kind of man Shaw is. If anyone wants to sit this out, I completely understand. You have every right."
The room grew heavy. The last encounter with Shaw at the CIA had left a deep psychological scar on everyone.
"I'm in. I've been waiting for this day," said Alex Summers—code name Havok—his voice ringing out loud and clear.
"Count me in too. I'm no longer someone who needs protection." Raven—Mystique—was next to speak.
People follow those who go first. With Havok and Mystique stepping forward, the rest of the mutants, despite their fear and uncertainty, all joined in. Not one chose to stay behind.
Charles and Erik exchanged a look. In each other's eyes, they saw a shared sense of pride.
All that grueling training—it hadn't been in vain.
"Alright! Go get ready—we meet on the field in twenty minutes!" Erik clapped his hands and gave the order.
Everyone left, each with their own thoughts.
Only after the crowd had dispersed did Moira glance at Charles, Erik, and Alex with a worried look. "Do you really think we can catch Shaw this time?"
"There's no 'can' or 'can't' about it," Erik said flatly. "We will catch him."
Two hours later.
A plane from New York landed in Manhattan. A group of mutants disembarked and made their way through the terminal.
"Damn, Manhattan's colder than I remember," Siryn—pulled her sleeves tighter. "Shaw's here in Manhattan? What, is he planning to take over Wall Street or something?"
"You can ask him that yourself when we've got him in custody," Havok replied with a smirk.
"Oh, don't worry. I will ask him," Darwin added, raising a fist. From the way he said "ask," it was clear he meant with his knuckles.
The long journey had helped temper everyone's nerves. By now, the tension had eased, and they were far less anxious than when they'd first heard the news.
That was good.
Outside the airport, Moira had already arranged transportation.
They got into the car, and after taking turn after turn through the city, they finally pulled onto a quiet, somewhat rundown street.
Not far from where they parked, there was a nondescript hotel.
"Wait here," Moira said as she opened the door and stepped out.
She walked about 300 meters and sat down on a public bench near a crooked tree, as if she were just tired and resting casually.
A few moments later, a middle-aged man passed by. He didn't stop—just subtly made a hand gesture as he walked past.
Moira understood the signal. Once he was out of sight, she returned to the car.
"I've confirmed with my contact—Shaw's inside that hotel," she said, pointing at the building.
"Charles!" Erik snapped to attention and turned toward him.
Charles said nothing. He raised his hand to his temple and tried to scan the building with his telepathy.
His expression quickly turned grim. "Bad news. My powers can't penetrate the hotel."
"Well…" Erik chuckled coldly. "That's great news for me."
If Charles' telepathy was being blocked, that could only mean one thing—they were in the right place.
"They've got another telepath?" Moira frowned, turning to Charles.
That wasn't good news. Without mental insight, they'd be going in blind.
"Maybe… I'm not sure. But I'm sorry. From here on out, I won't be much help," Charles said, shaking his head, frustration written all over his face.
His entire strength lay in manipulating the mind. And if that was sealed—he was effectively crippled.
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