November 17 arrived like a breaking point the world would never forget.
At the White Palace, a formal press conference was held, and the spokesperson stood before a sea of cameras, delivering a carefully crafted statement. Every word was measured, every pause deliberate, as the narrative of Cuba was laid out for the public.
"When I first received this news, I was just as shocked and disbelieving as all of you. But the facts force us to accept something we can no longer ignore—we are not the only dominant force on this planet."
The room fell into a heavy silence as the statement continued.
"Around us, there exists a group of individuals—mutants—who possess extraordinary and highly dangerous abilities."
A brief pause followed, allowing the weight of the revelation to settle.
"Yes. Mutants are real."
The declaration sent ripples through every screen, every household, every corner of the nation.
"We must face this reality. Consider this—just one mutant, with the ability to manipulate metal, was enough to destroy an entire fleet. Now ask yourselves… what about the others? What powers do they possess? What are they capable of?"
The implications were clear, and they were terrifying.
Not long after, the president himself appeared before the media. With a practiced expression of solemn concern, he extended condolences for the loss of the Cuban fleet while simultaneously voicing deep alarm over the existence of mutants.
He urged the citizens of the United States to remain vigilant.
"This is a dangerous group," he emphasized, his tone grave. "We must be prepared."
The message spread like wildfire.
Within hours, the entire country was in turmoil. Across the globe, shockwaves followed. The United States military had long been seen as the most powerful force on Earth, the foundation of its status as a global superpower.
During the Cuban confrontation alone, the scale of deployment had been staggering—dozens of air squadrons, multiple aircraft carriers, and an overwhelming fleet of warships.
A force capable of crushing entire nations.
And yet, it had been annihilated.
Not by another army, not by a rival superpower, but by individuals.
If such a claim had come from anywhere else, it would have been dismissed as absurd. But this was an official statement, backed by the president himself. Doubt had no room to stand.
Soon after, the Great Bear Country issued its own announcement, echoing the same conclusion.
Their fleets, too, had been destroyed by mutants.
With that, the narrative was sealed.
A group that had once existed only in rumors and fringe speculation was suddenly thrust into the global spotlight. Overnight, mutants became the most talked-about subject in the world.
Their existence was no longer questioned.
It was feared.
Even young children began to recognize the word "mutant," taught to associate it with danger. Parents warned them to stay away, to report anything unusual, to be cautious at all times.
The atmosphere shifted rapidly.
"Eliminate mutants!"
"Down with mutants!"
"Protect our nation!"
Protests erupted across multiple cities in both the United States and the Great Bear Country. Crowds gathered outside government buildings, demanding action. Demonstrators held signs, shouted slogans, and called for immediate measures to deal with what they now saw as a threat.
Fear spread like a contagion.
Gun stores saw an unprecedented surge in sales. Shelves were emptied almost overnight as people rushed to arm themselves, convinced that danger could appear at any moment.
It didn't need to be explained who they were preparing for.
In the span of a single day, mutants had become the common enemy of the world.
…
Inside the villa, the atmosphere was entirely different—but no less tense.
On the television, a news broadcast played continuously. A professionally dressed host stood before a chaotic backdrop of protesting crowds, her voice steady despite the scenes unfolding behind her.
"Following the president's address, panic has spread across major cities. The question now on everyone's mind is simple—how many mutants are out there, and where are they hiding?"
On the couch, Raven and Hank sat side by side, but neither of them paid any attention to the comfort surrounding them. Their expressions were tight, brows furrowed deeply as they watched the screen.
"How did this happen?"
Raven's voice trembled with frustration.
"How did it turn out like this?"
She suddenly stood up, unable to remain still, and rushed toward the television. With quick, agitated movements, she began switching channels one after another.
It didn't matter.
Every channel showed the same thing.
Mutants.
Mutants everywhere.
The topic dominated every broadcast, every discussion, every headline.
"They're everywhere…" she muttered under her breath, her hands tightening slightly.
Hank let out a heavy sigh, his face equally troubled.
"Ryan… I know it's too late to say this, but Charles might have been right. I should have tried harder to stop you and Eric back then."
His voice carried a quiet weight, filled with regret.
When Ryan and Eric had destroyed the fleets, they had already anticipated backlash. They knew the world wouldn't stay silent forever.
But knowing something and experiencing it were two very different things.
Neither Hank nor Raven had expected the situation to escalate this far, this fast.
Now, mutants weren't just feared—they were hated.
They had become targets.
If things continued down this path, survival itself would become uncertain.
Regret crept into both of their hearts.
Even those who didn't fully agree with Charles's ideals couldn't ignore what was happening now. Only someone as extreme as Eric could remain completely unmoved.
But Ryan?
He didn't regret it.
Not even a little.
Even if given the chance to do it all over again, he would make the same choice without hesitation.
The situation for mutants might seem worse now, but had it ever truly been good? Even in a world where he hadn't intervened, where Eric had been stopped, mutants had still suffered.
They were hunted, captured, experimented on.
They were turned into weapons, forced into battle.
Machines were created to track them, to identify them, to eliminate them.
The difference now wasn't the existence of danger.
It was the intensity.
Humans feared what they couldn't control. And when faced with something beyond their grasp, their instinct was simple.
Destroy it.
Still, Ryan didn't intend to ignore the consequences of his actions.
If he hadn't intervened, Eric alone wouldn't have been able to achieve what he did. The current situation wasn't something he could completely distance himself from.
Responsibility, whether he liked it or not, rested partly on his shoulders.
And he wasn't the kind of person who walked away after causing chaos.
"Ryan, what do we do now?"
Raven turned toward him, her voice urgent, almost pleading.
"We have to do something… right?"
Her eyes searched his face, looking for an answer.
Hank, on the other hand, shook his head slowly.
"What can we even do at this point?"
His tone was heavy, bordering on defeat.
Ryan remained relaxed, leaning back slightly as if the storm outside didn't touch him at all.
"No, Hank," he said calmly. "There's plenty we can do."
At his words, both Raven and Hank froze for a moment.
Then, almost simultaneously, their eyes lit up.
.....
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