The Storm Is Coming

On the interstate, a massive transport truck followed the signal Miles had left behind, rolling smoothly along.

In the spacious rear half of the truck bed, Dr. Zander Rice smiled as he handed a bottle of water to Caliban, who was tied to a chair.

"Mr. Caliban, I hope you understand that we're doing this for the greater good." Zander's voice was gentle and persuasive. "You should know that those mutants, especially X-0, are extremely dangerous destructive elements. We need to bring them under control as soon as possible, so we need your help. That will prevent more innocent people from getting hurt."

Caliban's face was covered in several bruises, and there was still a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. Looking at Dr. Zander's smile, he spoke quietly. "My abilities have deteriorated just as badly as Logan's. The distance is too great. I can't find them at all."

"...Are you sure you're not lying to me?" Dr. Zander asked seriously.

"How am I supposed to prove it to you...? Perhaps I should agree, point you in some random direction to waste your time, and then wait until you lose patience before letting you kill me." Caliban spoke softly.

"Fuck." Dr. Zander cursed, his expression shifting between gloom and anger.

As for Caliban's claim that "his abilities had also deteriorated severely," Dr. Zander believed it was true. After all, he himself was one of the masterminds behind the plan to weaken mutants with genetically modified food and make mutants disappear. No one understood the effects of genetically modified food on natural mutants better than he did.

So, was this Caliban now nothing but a useless wreck?

Dr. Zander was in a terrible mood. They had been tracking Miles's locator signal all along, which was how they had pinned down his location. Yet just now, the locator signal had vanished.

The device was embedded directly in Miles's head. It couldn't have been removed easily. The only possible explanation was that Miles had blocked the signal himself. His abilities could accomplish that with ease.

So now, the problem was that they had lost him.

Dr. Zander shook his head in disappointment, stepped back a few paces, and casually said to Anthony beside him, "Anthony, you handle it."

"Heh. My pleasure." Anthony grinned, cracked his knuckles, and walked toward Caliban.

Not long afterward, the others heard a muffled, agonized scream.

Dr. Zander sat on the edge of the truck bed, smoking in annoyance and paying no attention to the screams.

Ever since he had nearly suffocated to death after being trapped inside the command vehicle last time, he had no longer dared to ride in fully enclosed vehicles. Now, he continued thinking about how to track Miles. If they couldn't receive the locator signal and Caliban, the "mutant radar," couldn't do anything either, finding those few mutants among the vast population of the United States would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Beep beep beep..."

Just then, the satellite phone in his pocket began to ring.

Dr. Zander took out the phone and saw an unfamiliar number. After a moment's thought, he answered.

"Hello, is this Dr. Zander Rice?" An unfamiliar voice came from the other end, though the speaker clearly knew Dr. Zander's information.

"My name is Davis. I know you're looking for several special 'assets.' Perhaps we can work together."

"How do you intend to cooperate?" Zander asked warily.

"It's simple. We can provide you with the exact location of those 'targets.'"

"Hmm?" Dr. Zander's expression shifted. "And then?"

"After that, we should discuss the rest in person." Davis spoke over the phone. "I'm at the intersection ahead of you..."

Following Davis's instructions, Zander had the convoy stop at a remote stretch of roadside. Soon, a black sedan drove up, and a man in a well-tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses stepped out. It was Davis.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Zander. I'm Davis Connor." Davis smiled and extended his hand. "We're very interested in your target, X-0, and would like to learn more. I hope our cooperation will be pleasant."

"Would you mind telling me where you're from?" Dr. Zander asked, looking Davis up and down.

"Sorry. I can't say for now." Davis shrugged.

"All right." Dr. Zander nodded. He had a vague suspicion, but did not voice it. Instead, he simply took Davis's hand. "Pleasure doing business with you!"

And so, the two sides reached an agreement at once.

Not long afterward, Dr. Zander once again stood before X-24, who was ready to set out.

He personally removed the miniature earpiece from X-24's ear, then took out a photograph of Miles and held it before X-24's eyes. In a firm tone that brooked no argument, he said seriously:

"Remember, I'm giving you only one order this time! Bring this little guy back alive!"

"You're free to act this time. Until you see me again, ignore every voice you hear!"

X-24's expression remained blank as he stared fixedly at the photograph, seemingly trying his best to carve that face into his mind.

Kansas City, Morgan Bank.

Logan pushed Miles's wheelchair out through the main entrance without attracting anyone's attention.

Just now, the two of them had gone to the bank to withdraw money. Logan had simply taken out one hundred dollars in cash, but at the same time, Miles had activated his abilities and hacked into the bank's mainframe. Without anyone knowing, he had transferred a full two million dollars into Logan's account.

Because the bank's accounting-system data was interconnected nationwide, Miles couldn't simply make two million dollars appear out of nowhere. That would cause problems in the bank headquarters' system. A transfer, however, had no such concerns. As he had said, if he wanted to, he could empty the bank completely without leaving behind any clear data records.

Of course, this couldn't remain hidden forever. But Miles could guarantee that even if the bank discovered it, they would never be able to trace Logan or him through the data.

That was the terrifying aspect of Electronic Signal Manipulation. Although it wasn't especially powerful in direct combat, it was enough to influence the foundation of modern human society!

Unfortunately, his ability still had flaws. Electronic Signal Manipulation was itself an extension of his Telepathy, and his current range of Telepathy was not very large—only about three kilometers. In other words, for sensitive operations such as modifying data, he had to be physically near the system's mainframe. That was why he had needed to come withdraw the money with Logan.

"Shit..."

After withdrawing the money and seeing the extra balance in the account with his own eyes, Logan still couldn't help feeling horrified, even though he had mentally prepared himself.

Miles, however, seemed completely unconcerned. On the way out of the bank, he complained to Logan, "Tch, this little bit isn't nearly enough. Once I get the thing in my head removed, I'm planning to conduct some 'other research' too. That'll require more money..."

"Shut up. We're going back."

Logan ignored his muttering and simply pushed him back to the car, where they met up with Charles and Laura.

Thinking about the enormous sum in the account, Logan felt vaguely uneasy.

Miles's abilities had clearly exceeded his expectations. And to Logan, who had spent his entire life fighting... powerful abilities often meant even greater risks.

There was one simple question: if more people learned that Miles existed... what would happen?

A mutant capable of controlling every electronic device in the world and casually altering data records... No country or organization anywhere in the world could simply turn a blind eye to that.

With a heavy heart, Logan stepped on the accelerator and started the car.

"Did you get the money?" Charles asked from the back seat.

"Of course." Miles nodded. "I looked into the prices here and the tuition rates at the medical school. Considering that the surgery I need is rather unusual, the cost could exceed a million. But it doesn't matter. We've gotten enough money."

"Will the bank discover it?"

"Possibly. Humans rely on electronic data, but not entirely. A manual audit will eventually uncover something." Miles spoke calmly. "But it doesn't matter. I've destroyed all the surveillance records. Even if they discover it, they won't find any leads."

"..."

Old Charles sighed silently, then spoke again. "Promise me, Miles. Just this once."

"Why?" Miles countered. "You know there's always plenty of money in this country's banks. A few million dollars is nothing within the American financial system."

"Miles." Old Charles looked into Miles's eyes. "You're very smart. You know what I mean. So promise me—just this once!"

"..." Miles turned his head aside and sighed deeply. "Fine... Damn it, I really don't understand why you, you nearly dead old man, are so stubborn about this."

"I'm an educator, Miles." Old Charles said, "It's my mission."

"Tch... What a boring old-fashioned idea."

Several hours later, University of Kansas Medical School, central campus.

The environment was beautiful and the facilities advanced. It was one of the top medical centers in the United States.

Logan pushed Miles's wheelchair into the hospital lobby. With the help of a staff member, they made an appointment with a brain surgeon named James.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Miles... Your situation is somewhat unusual."

The approximately fifty-year-old Dr. James, who wore gold-rimmed glasses, examined the test results Logan had handed him and looked troubled. "First, your symptoms are extremely complicated. A difficult operation involving the inside of the brain would be highly dangerous. There's also the matter that... we aren't in a position to accept mutants here."

Logan's expression darkened, and his fist clenched involuntarily.

At that moment, however, Miles calmly spoke. "We can pay an additional treatment fee and ensure that the treatment remains confidential. We won't say anything publicly. If necessary, we can sign any agreement."

"Would one million be enough?"

"This isn't about money..."

"One point two million."

"...Are you sure you can really produce that much money?"

"One point five million." Miles spoke calmly. "I want the surgery to begin within one day!"

"This..." Hearing Miles's demand, James broke out in a cold sweat and instinctively said, "I need to contact the hospital board..."

"Go ahead." Miles waved a hand.

This was the United States. Every American knew that as long as you had enough money, no problem was truly a problem.

Soon, after Logan proved that they really had sufficient funds, the person receiving them was replaced by Dr. Evelyn Li De, dean of University of Kansas Medical School.

"Sorry for the wait, Mr. Logan." The nearly sixty-year-old female dean, Dr. Li De, spoke to Logan, then lowered her head to look at Miles. "We've already assembled the relevant team of experts. We expect to have a treatment plan within two hours, after which we can perform the surgery on your son."

"He's my... nephew." Logan corrected her awkwardly.

"Yes, that's right. I'm his nephew." Miles nodded along, then added, "Speaking of which, Dr. Li De, do you happen to have a cousin named Richards who's also a doctor?"

"I don't. Why do you ask? Are you very familiar with Mr. Richards?" Dr. Li De countered.

"Oh, I just wanted to say that if your cousin Richards is also part of my consultation team, remember to kick him out. I don't want to wake up one day and find that the little thing behind my brain hasn't disappeared, but has instead been joined by several strange additions."

"..." Dr. Li De frowned and instinctively looked at Logan.

Logan expressionlessly pointed at his own skull for Dr. Li De.

"Don't mind him. There's something wrong with his brain."