"Fwoosh—"
"Boom—"
The citizens of New York looked up briefly, spotting the faint blue flame streaking across the night sky. It was a familiar sight now, and they were no longer surprised. Knowing exactly who it was, they simply lowered their heads and went back to their business.
High above, riding his flying skateboard, Harry shot through the air at full speed.
"Are you sure it's there?" Harry raised his right arm, and a 3D projection flickered to life above his wrist—displaying the familiar image of one-eyed Director Nick Fury.
"Of course. My people don't make mistakes," Fury said, his expression hard.
"Good," Harry replied. "Then make sure you hold up your end of the deal."
"Naturally," Fury said flatly.
With Fury's confirmation, Harry turned off the projection display.
He sighed quietly, glancing down at the alloy armor covering his body and the skateboard beneath his feet. "To deal with Magneto, this metal suit is completely useless."
He pressed a quick-release switch. With a series of metallic clanks, the armor detached piece by piece, folding back into compartments hidden within the flying board. Beneath, Harry stood clad in a black combat suit.
"I'm really not used to this," he muttered, stretching his shoulders. The tight suit clung perfectly to his body—far from ordinary. It was a self-adjusting tactical prototype developed from Doom Industries' schematics, reinforced with spider silk engineered by Dr. Connors for extreme durability and flexibility.
"Forget it." Harry shook his head, pulled a small device from the skateboard, and left both the armor and board hovering in the air.
"I'm coming for you, Magneto."
Focusing his will, Harry extended both arms. A surge of invisible power formed behind him, propelling him forward. With a wave, the energy burst again—and he shot across the sky, flying straight toward the isolated island ahead.
...
On the island, a uniquely built metal structure stood quietly amid the rocky cliffs. Inside one of its large chambers, a silver-haired man sat behind a long metal desk, deep in thought. Metallic ornaments on the tabletop floated, clattered softly, and fell again—rising and striking each other under the faint magnetic pulse that filled the air.
The old man's brows furrowed. He pressed a hand to his temple, as though caught between pain and decision.
"Are you sure you really want to do this?"
The voice came from across the desk—female, soft but edged with concern. Her blue skin and fiery red hair revealed her identity immediately. It was Mystique, once acquainted with Harry.
"Ah…" The old man sighed deeply, lowering his hand. His confusion hardened into determination. Even if it meant weakening himself, he had already made his choice.
"Yes," he said firmly. "For the sake of our kind, I must. If this experiment succeeds, mutants will no longer have to live in the shadows. We will become the masters of a new world."
As he spoke, Magneto's tone grew more impassioned until he rose from his chair, voice echoing through the room.
Mystique only bowed her head silently.
"Prepare everything," Magneto ordered, his voice sharp again. "Let Senator Kelly be our first step toward changing the world—let him become one of us."
"Yes." Mystique nodded, then turned and left the room quietly.
Moments after she was gone, Harry slipped unseen into the Mutant Brotherhood's hidden base.
He landed inside a narrow corridor, the air heavy with the scent of metal and salt. The rhythmic crash of waves echoed faintly from outside.
"No one's here," Harry whispered. He glanced both ways—nothing but silence. "No surveillance either. Guess they're cautious."
He scanned the ceiling—no cameras. Clearly, Magneto had taken precautions against S.H.I.E.L.D.'s prying eyes.
"Too bad it won't help," Harry smirked quietly to himself.
He hesitated at a cross-section. "Which way should I go… Wait—someone's coming."
He leapt upward instantly, flattening himself against the high ceiling, limbs splayed, body inverted. He listened carefully as faint, nearly imperceptible footsteps echoed down the hall.
A slender blue leg emerged from the shadows, followed by a full figure of blue skin and red hair.
"It's her," Harry thought, eyes narrowing. "Perfect. She'll definitely know where Senator Kelly is."
Mystique walked slowly forward—unaware of the eyes above her—until she was directly beneath him.
In a flash, Harry shifted his weight and dropped soundlessly behind her.
"Tell me," he murmured low against her ear, his breath cold. "Where is Senator Kelly being held?" A faint metallic glint flashed at her neck.
"Who are you?" Mystique's tone was eerily calm, utterly unfazed by the threat.
"We've met before… Fe-li-ci-a—" Harry drawled the name deliberately.
"It's you," Mystique hissed, realization dawning. The name triggered her memory. She snapped her head backward violently, twisting her neck at an unnatural angle to dodge the dagger's edge. Her lithe body slipped beneath Harry's reach—her long legs whipping up over her shoulder in a high arc, striking toward his head.
"Pointless struggle," Harry said coolly, dodging back. He flipped his wrist, tossing the dagger upward as he bent low, narrowly avoiding the kick.
"Thwip—!"
From his palm, two fingers flicked forward, and a white strand of spider silk shot out, sticking fast to Mystique's side.
"Heh." Harry yanked hard, spinning his body in the pull—and crashed directly into her.
"Boom—!"
"Ah!" Mystique gasped as she hit the floor hard. Harry landed atop her; one knee pressed against her chest, his other leg pinning hers firmly to the ground.
She struggled, but couldn't move an inch.
---
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