As the saying goes, for freedom of the press—or more accurately, for fame and fortune—the media can move mountains in mere minutes.
And Eddie Locke was no exception.
Just ten minutes after his call with Joseph, Eddie skidded his car to a halt in front of NYPD Headquarters, jumping out like the ground was on fire. It was likely he'd ignored every red light from Midtown to here, but he didn't care. If he could be the first to cover the president's assassination, his place at the Global Daily would be secured for life.
Promotion? Check.
Salary raise? Definitely.
Respect, power, maybe even a chance to host his own show?
Everything was possible now.
This was why he had become a reporter in the first place.
Upon arriving, Eddie immediately noticed the stir outside the building. Dozens of NYPD officers were either staring at their phones or speaking in low tones to one another. A quick inquiry confirmed his suspicion:
The X-Men had issued a public statement.
They vowed to find the assassin behind the President's death within 24 hours.
Eddie's instincts went into overdrive. Something big was brewing. He could feel it.
He whipped out his phone and contacted his editor, demanding they prep a live feed. "We're going full broadcast," he barked. "Have the crew ready to go live any second. Something huge is coming. I want that camera rolling!"
Ten minutes later, the city's disbelief was confirmed.
With a deep hum, an aircraft with a sleek, almost alien design flew over the streets and hovered directly above NYPD headquarters. The crowd of officers and onlookers stared up in stunned silence.
Then, the aircraft's side hatch opened.
And four figures leapt down in a controlled descent.
The X-Men had arrived.
"Is that… Storm?!"
"Wait—is that Cyclops?!"
"What the hell are the X-Men doing here?!"
The reactions came quickly. Though the X-Men's reputation had improved recently—thanks in no small part to the X-Men Documentary—seeing them arrive at a civilian institution like the NYPD still shocked many.
Mutants operating openly in a public law enforcement setting? That was unheard of.
Not for Eddie.
This was better than he imagined.
The scoop of the year was unfolding in front of his very eyes.
And he had a front-row seat.
What shocked people even more was what happened next.
Storm and the others didn't arrive in full battle mode.
They walked in calmly and professionally—and headed straight to the front desk to report a crime.
A simple, procedural act.
Except it was the X-Men reporting it.
"What? You're here to report a crime?" asked one officer, confused.
"We have confirmed the identity and location of the Mutant who assassinated the President," Storm explained.
"Wait, you found the assassin?"
"Yes. But since we lack formal law enforcement authority," she added, "we've come to request official support from the NYPD."
The precinct fell into a stunned silence.
The X-Men, long known for acting independently—even outside the law—were… cooperating? Following procedures?
Even Eddie's jaw went slack.
This wasn't in any script. This was history unfolding.
The police officers were equally dumbfounded. The X-Men had always been rogue operators, taking down mutant criminals without any governmental oversight. Why were they suddenly following protocol?
And more importantly…
What did Joseph have planned?
Inside the precinct, NYPD's director was having a minor meltdown.
Reporters were outside. Cameras were rolling. And now the X-Men were standing in his lobby, politely asking to be deputized for an active presidential assassination case.
If he denied them, he'd look like a fool—worse, like a man hiding something.
If he accepted, he'd be involved in one of the biggest national security incidents in history.
Storm leaned forward, voice firm but respectful.
"Director, the assassin is constantly on the move. We can't afford to wait for bureaucratic clearance. We're not asking you to assign your entire force—just a small team of detectives to accompany us as official NYPD representatives."
The director blinked.
That was actually… reasonable.
His gaze darted to the live-streaming cameras outside the glass doors.
If the X-Men really captured the assassin, and he was the one to have greenlit the operation…
The credit would be massive.
His career? Supercharged.
The fallout? Not his problem.
He straightened his coat and addressed the gathered detectives. "This is a matter of national significance. NYPD will cooperate. I need one detective to lead the team. Volunteers?"
Silence.
Every detective in the room shifted awkwardly.
Not a single hand went up.
They all knew what this meant: if something went wrong—if the X-Men messed up, or the assassin turned out to be a trap—they'd be the scapegoats. Besides, Mutant-related cases were political dynamite. No one wanted to be the one holding the match.
Then, unexpectedly, a clear voice rang out.
"I'll go."
The room turned as one.
A stunning woman stepped forward from the crowd of detectives—tall, poised, in a fitted leather coat and heeled boots that somehow enhanced her commanding presence.
She moved like someone who meant every word she said.
"I'm Catherine Beckett," she declared. "Homicide Detective, 12th Precinct. I'll lead the operation."
Murmurs erupted around the room.
Beckett?
From the 12th? What's she doing at HQ?
Some scoffed. Others looked impressed. Everyone was surprised.
Not only had she accepted the mission, she'd done so publicly, in full view of the media.
One detective whispered, "She's nuts. Why would she throw herself into this mess?"
Another muttered, "Either incredibly brave—or she knows something we don't."
Regardless, Beckett wasn't backing down.
The director, seeing an out and finally regaining his swagger, seized the moment.
"Excellent. Detective Beckett, you have ten minutes to assemble your team. This is now an official NYPD-supported operation."
"Yes, sir."
But before she could move, Phoenix stepped forward, smiling warmly.
"No need to gather anyone," she said. "Our aircraft can pick them up directly."
Then, tilting her head, she added softly, "You're quite brave, Detective Beckett. I admire that."
There was something in her tone—curiosity laced with suspicion.
She hadn't used her telepathy, but she didn't need it to sense that Catherine Beckett… wasn't a stranger to Joseph.
That kind of calm under pressure?
That level of readiness?
It didn't happen by accident.
Phoenix's mind drifted briefly.
Felicity.
Skyfa.
Brilliant women now working inside the Oasis Project—Joseph's private domain within the Academy.
And now Catherine Beckett—another intelligent, capable beauty—just happened to volunteer at the perfect time?
The coincidences were piling up.
And she couldn't help but wonder:
Just how much preparation had Joseph done?
And how many people did he already have in place… ready to act at his signal?
One thing was certain.
Joseph wasn't just ahead of the curve.
He was building the damn road.
___________________________________
Get membership in patreon to read more chapters
Extra chapters available in patreon
patreon.com/Dragonscribe31