"What exactly gives you this certainty, and why do you feel so confident about solving her condition?" Logan pressed, the premium cigar smoke curling slowly around his face.
The memory of Marie's ability—the immediate, terrifying physical and mental void of having his very essence drained—was a nightmare he cared never to revisit. He knew Zhou Yi must have experienced that raw feedback loop too, yet his confidence remained unshaken.
"Confidence, Logan, is the natural byproduct of understanding the underlying mechanism," Zhou Yi replied, his expression measured.
"Professor Xavier and Hank McCoy approach this as a biological and neurological problem—a mutation that requires a cure or a suppressive neuro-inhibitor. Their methods are inherently invasive, targeting the body's innate command center. That's why the side effects are so severe."
He paused, making eye contact with the gruff mutant. "My approach, informed by the vast, bleeding-edge research facilities I own, treats Marie's ability as a bio-physical phenomenon. Her power is an involuntary, passive energy drain, a highly specialized magnetic-electric field that simply can't contain itself. Therefore, the solution is not biological; it's engineering."
"We will not suppress her mind; we will create an External Harmonization Sheath. Think of it as a dynamic, molecular-level insulator—a perpetual Faraday cage for her specific bio-field. This technology utilizes frequency-matched ceramics and advanced molecular composites to perpetually ground and stabilize the energy she emits. She keeps her destructive 'edge,' as you call it, but her passive lethal effect is neutralized. It's a technological solution to a biological problem, and it leverages the axiom of my former homeland's great thinkers: Science and technology are the primary productive forces."
"Go to hell," Logan muttered, his resentment warring with the undeniable pragmatic brilliance of the idea. He closed his eyes, a clear signal that he was finished with the conversation, leaving Zhou Yi to focus on the road. This was exactly what Zhou Yi needed.
He drove with purpose, the Bentley's custom-built engine humming, and soon they reached Newark Airport. His private jet, a Gulfstream G650ER, stood ready on the tarmac, a gleaming silver monument to capital and speed.
While no explicit laws forbade mutants from using commercial air travel, the history of discrimination and the inherent risk of public exposure led most mutants to deliberately avoid such spaces. Their self-imposed seclusion had fostered habits of avoidance and distrust—a deep-seated psychological hurdle that Zhou Yi's new strategy aimed to dismantle.
"Wow! It really is a private jet!" As they stepped out of the Bentley, one of Sharice's friends, Vivien Leigh, exclaimed, her natural exuberance breaking through the Academy's habitual reserve. Unlike the shyer students, Vivien possessed a lively, open personality, though she was still far more reserved than Sharice.
"Welcome aboard, gentlemen and ladies," Zhou Yi announced, gesturing toward the plane. "We'll be spending the next few hours in the most comfortable, secure conditions possible. As Sharice's self-appointed travel agent, I guarantee a pleasant trip." He nodded toward a middle-aged man in a sharp captain's uniform who approached them. "Right, Hadler?"
Captain Hadler, a man Zhou Yi paid an exorbitant salary to ensure both his piloting expertise and absolute discretion, offered a professional smile.
"It's a rich man's world," Logan grumbled, refusing the beautiful flight attendant's offer to assist him with his battered duffel bag. He hoisted the suitcase onto his shoulder, the gesture a small act of defiance against the surrounding opulence, and followed the flustered attendants into the cabin.
Under his watchful, gruff supervision, the slightly timid students quickly followed Sharice's lead. Soon, only Zhou Yi, Ororo, and Jean Grey remained on the tarmac.
"Yi, is this level of excess truly necessary?" Ororo's voice was low, tinged with a familiar strain. Despite the burgeoning intimacy between them, she still struggled with Zhou Yi's hyper-affluent lifestyle. As a mutant who grew up in less-privileged circumstances, the constant exposure to private jets and bespoke luxury triggered a persistent feeling of discomfort and inferiority.
Zhou Yi understood this deeply ingrained anxiety, but he knew changing his reality for her sake was impractical and unnecessary. He believed that her strength would eventually allow her to reconcile her values with his reality.
"It is necessary for two critical reasons, my love," he explained, placing his arm around her.
"First, my mother. She insisted I come, and she will be expecting us. She'd call me twenty times a day to ensure I hadn't misplaced her 'adorable little girl.' Second, and far more relevant to our present situation: speed is survival. The faster we move and the more specialized our logistics, the slower Magneto and his agents can possibly track us. If we maintain this advantage, they might miss the upcoming summit entirely."
Jean Grey, ever the pragmatist, acknowledged the threat. "Erik has powerful mutants under his command. We cannot ignore the possibility that one of them possesses some form of unique sensory ability that can track our movements across continents. Planning for the worst-case scenario is our only responsible course."
"We are in command, Jean," Zhou Yi affirmed, his confidence unyielding. "The old saying holds true: 'When soldiers come, the generals block them; when water comes, the earth blocks them.' We have the starting advantage. Magneto may have immense power, but we have economic velocity and strategic anonymity. That combination puts us far ahead of the competition."
After a final, reassuring squeeze of Ororo's hand, he sent both women onto the plane. He then turned back to Captain Hadler, who had maintained a respectful distance throughout the farewell.
"Mr. Hadler," Zhou Yi said, his voice dropping to a low, knowing tone. "I trust you know precisely what is required of you, down to the last flight plan alteration."
Hadler met his gaze with the clear, unwavering loyalty of a man whose financial security was intrinsically linked to his discretion.
"Don't worry, Mr. Zhou. My responsibilities are limited to the safe operation of this aircraft. What—or who—you choose to bring aboard your property is confidential. For my salary, and the sizable mortgage that salary pays, my lips are completely sealed. Utter confidentiality is guaranteed."
Zhou Yi was deeply satisfied with this assurance. He patted Hadler's shoulder. "The rest is yours, Captain. I expect a smooth, comfortable journey."
"Of course, sir. A generous patron like yourself deserves ten times the effort."
With a final nod, Zhou Yi entered the cabin. The private jet's door sealed shut, and under Captain Hadler's expert control, the aircraft soon took off, ascending smoothly into the pre-dawn sky, racing across the ocean towards Europe along a series of constantly shifting, pre-determined routes designed to confuse any ordinary surveillance.
Thousands of miles away, on a desolate, weather-beaten island sanctuary somewhere off the coast of New York, Erik Lehnsherr, the Master of Magnetism, sat in silent contemplation. His imposing figure rested on a throne-like metal chair, currently suspended several feet in the air, a testament to his casual, absolute control over one of the universe's fundamental forces.
Erik was, without question, one of the most formidable beings on the planet. His ability to manipulate magnetism gave him complete dominion over modern human society.
He could command the iron in the reinforced concrete of human cities, and, far more crucially, he could turn every tank, every bullet, and every piece of specialized equipment in the world's standing armies into inert, harmless slag—or worse, a weapon turned against its owner.
To him, human cities and armies were not threats; they were merely paper weights in a magnetic field he commanded. His mastery extended far beyond mere ferrous metal; magnetism is one of the four fundamental forces.
Erik was continuously, ceaselessly, developing his potential, capable of sensing and even minimally interfering with the colossal, intricate workings of the Earth's own magnetic field.
While such an endeavor was ultimately pointless for his current goals, it underscored the terrifying scale of his latent power.
Erik Lehnsherr was a man forged in the crucible of human hatred, a survivor of the Nazi concentration camps.
This history had cemented his ruthless, unwavering conviction in mutant supremacy. He was an extreme ideologue, an ambitious and brutal leader who believed the only path for his kind was to seize control and dominate the world before humanity inevitably tried to extinguish them.
This ideology stood in direct, painful opposition to the gentle idealism of his oldest and dearest friend, Professor Charles Xavier. Their bond was the ultimate tragedy of fate—two men, united by suffering and dedication to their race, yet driven by destiny onto completely opposite sides of the existential conflict.
Erik knew, better than anyone, the true scale of the Professor's power. Professor Charles was the most powerful telepath to ever walk the Earth. With a single thought, uninhibited, Charles could enslave every mind on the planet, transforming billions of busy, careless, ordinary people into his devoted, unquestioning subjects.
The fact that Charles had not yet carved out a mutant empire—had not yet become a tyrannical, absolute ruler—was the clearest, most profound evidence of the Professor's immaculate moral character.
This moral perfection was the only reason Charles had managed to keep his power in check. It was also the only reason Erik had not yet triumphed decisively.
Now, Erik was facing a fresh complication. The recent emergence of the young mutant, Marie (Little Naughty), had instantly put his carefully laid plans into a state of flux, and the discovery of her whereabouts led him directly into Charles's intricate security web.
"The girl is gone," a voice crackled over a nearby communication device. It was a subordinate reporting the surveillance failure.
"The American strategist—Zhou Yi—moved them out of the country in a privately owned, completely shielded aircraft. We only picked up the flight path fifteen minutes after take-off."
Erik opened his eyes, the metal under his feet shuddering slightly from the contained, seismic irritation. He despised being outmaneuvered, especially by a human.
"He moves with the speed of capital," Erik observed, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Charles always relied on discretion, on the morality of hiding in plain sight. This new element relies on velocity and wealth. He is not a man I can simply appeal to or crush with physical force; he is a man who understands logistics and leverage."
The presence of Zhou Yi, the human billionaire who moved with such aggressive, preemptive strategy, was an unwelcome challenge. Fighting Charles was a battle of ideology and tragic friendship, a complex dance where Charles's moral compass was his greatest weakness.
Fighting a corporate strategist like Zhou Yi, however, was a cold, brutal game of resources and speed, played by entirely different, and thoroughly aggravating, rules.
"I want a comprehensive report on every financial movement, every shell corporation, and every known associate of this 'Zhou Yi'," Erik commanded, his eyes focusing on a distant, impossible point over the horizon.
"If he intends to use the very systems of human supremacy to protect Charles's children, then I shall dismantle those systems, piece by painstaking piece."
He knew the ultimate target was the upcoming summit—the gathering of world leaders. If Charles and his new financial backer were en route to Europe, it meant they intended to participate in, or disrupt, the same event.
"They will lead us to the meeting point, then," Erik concluded, a slow, grim smile spreading across his lips. "The final confrontation is simply a matter of when, and where."