121: Chapter 121 Standoff at the Registration Office

"Someone has to clean up after the smashing is done."

The next day at noon, Yan Zheng sat by the second-floor window of a coffee shop in Jackson Heights, Queens, holding a cup of Americano. Before cleaning up, one must first let the dust settle.

December 20th, 1:10 PM.

Outside the window was a municipal plaza at the intersection of Roosevelt Avenue and Broadway. On the west side of the plaza stood a temporarily renovated three-story office building, with a conspicuous blue and white logo spray-painted on the exterior wall: New York City Mutant Registration Office, Branch 7.

A long queue that snaked around twice formed in front of the building's main entrance.

Yan Zheng scanned the line from the front to the back and counted.

"About seventy people."

The Americano was very bitter; no milk, no sugar.

He took a sip, set it down, and tapped his finger lightly against the side of the paper cup.

The people in the queue had different expressions, but they shared one thing in common: no one was speaking.

The silence of the queue contrasted sharply with the noise on the outskirts of the plaza.

On the perimeter, there were protesters, reporters, three black armored vans from Project Purity, and over a dozen Agents in dark blue tactical gear scattered around the building.

"Mr. System, scan for X-Gene signals within the plaza area."

The system panel popped up.

[X-Gene signal scan. Range: 300 meters ahead. Detected signal sources: 87. Among them, 63 in the queue area, 9 inside the building, and 15 scattered on the perimeter.]

Yan Zheng: (ꐦ˘͈ ⌓ ˘͈)

"Eighty-seven Mutants crammed into one plaza."

"There are sixteen Agents from Project Purity visible on the surface, but it's hard to say about those in the shadows."

"This place is just one match away from exploding."

In the Mental Link, the green dots of the three Skeleton Soldiers were on standby two streets away from the plaza, scattered next to three sewer maintenance manholes.

The Knight and Brute remained in the Underground Room, with the Gunner providing core defense; today's setup was a light configuration.

When he took the third sip of coffee, there was a boom in the sky at the southwest corner of the plaza.

It wasn't thunder.

A black jet aircraft cut out from under the clouds. Its fuselage was streamlined and compact, and the engine noise was muffled by some kind of noise-reduction system to a low-frequency hum, but its sheer size drew the eyes of everyone in the plaza upward.

It was the X-Men's Blackbird.

The aircraft landed vertically on the open ground on the east side of the plaza, and the blast of air from the landing gear hitting the ground blew newspapers and plastic bags twenty meters away.

All the Project Purity Agents turned toward the east, and several of them reached for the weapons at their waists.

The cabin door opened.

The first to emerge was Cyclops, his red visor reflecting a dark crimson light in the afternoon sun.

The second was Storm, her short white hair still fluttering in the residual air currents.

The third was Colossus, his height of over two meters forcing him to stoop as he crawled out of the cabin door, his armored skin gleaming with a metallic, dark silver hue in the sunlight.

The last to emerge was a wheelchair.

The wheelchair slowly descended from the hydraulic lift at the bottom of the cabin door, its silver handles clean and tidy in the sunlight.

Charles Xavier.

Yan Zheng's index finger paused on the coffee cup.

"Professor X is here in person."

Xavier's wheelchair drove along the temporarily installed accessible ramp toward the main entrance of the registration office, with Cyclops on his left, Storm on his right, and Colossus in the rear.

A senior Agent from Project Purity came out to meet them from the side door of the building, walking quickly with a strained smile on his face.

The two parties stopped at the entrance of the registration office and began to talk.

The distance was too far to hear, but Yan Zheng could see the Agent's hands gesturing constantly in a rapid rhythm.

Xavier sat in his wheelchair, his hands folded on his lap, nodding occasionally.

"Peacekeeping oversight."

"The Professor is here to watch if the registration process crosses the line."

Yan Zheng: (˵ꐦ≖ ᗜ ≖˵)

"He has probably heard about Project Purity capturing living people and locking them in laboratories."

"It makes sense for him to come."

He placed the coffee on the windowsill, took his phone out of his pocket, and took a panoramic photo of the plaza.

The image quality wasn't great, but the positioning of the various parties was clear.

The four X-Men stood on the steps at the entrance of the registration office, occupying the high ground.

The Project Purity Agents were scattered around the building and the edge of the plaza, forming a loose encirclement.

The Mutants in the queue were squeezed in the middle, the pressure from both sides making their formation increasingly tight.

"Two forces swirling in the same pot; those caught in the middle will be crushed."

At 2:00 PM, the registration officially began.

The Mutants walked into the main building entrance one by one, and when they came out, they had an additional gray-white electronic wristband on their wrists, printed with a string of numbers.

A middle-aged woman's legs went weak when she came out of the door, and she nearly fell on the steps.

Storm walked over to help her, and the woman looked up at her, her eyes turning red.

Yan Zheng watched this scene unfold and took another sip of coffee.

3:03 PM.

A red alert popped up in the corner of his vision on the system panel.

[Abnormal signal detected. Direction: Southeast corner of the plaza. Five high-intensity X-Gene signals are approaching rapidly, at speeds over 80 km/h.]

Yan Zheng's finger released from the coffee cup.

"They're here."

The roar of an engine came from the direction of Broadway at the southeast corner of the plaza. A dark gray modified van ran the red light at the intersection, its rear wheels hitting the curb and bouncing up. The vehicle tilted fifteen degrees before slamming back onto the road, charging straight toward the plaza's fence.

The van screeched to a halt a second before hitting the fence.

When the side door slid open, Yan Zheng's panel had already locked onto the genetic types of the five signal sources inside the vehicle.

[Signal 1: Plasma Mutant, High-level.]

[Signal 2: Super Strength, Mid-to-high level.]

[Signal 3: Dynamic Barrier Generation, Mid-level.]

[Signal 4: Super Speed, Mid-level.]

[Signal 5: Metal Manipulation (Weakened), Low-level.]

Five people jumped out of the car, all in black tactical gear, with a tilted triangular logo spray-painted in red on their chests.

Magneto's symbol.

Yan Zheng: (ꐦ✧ ‸ ✧)

"The Brotherhood assault team. Five people: one High-level, one Mid-to-high level, and three Mid-to-low level."

"Not a large unit, but enough to tear this plaza apart."

The tall, thin young man leading them held his hands out, pale purple arcs of light dancing between his ten fingers.

Plasma Mutant.

He opened his mouth and roared, his voice carrying across half the plaza.

"The registration office is a place to tag dogs! Mutants don't need collars!"

The reactions of everyone in the plaza were divided into three layers.

The Mutants in the queue scattered to both sides, cries and footsteps mixing together.

The Project Purity Agents drew the standard-issue suppression guns from their waists that Yan Zheng had seen many times.

Cyclops's hand was already pressing the dial on the side of his visor.

Yan Zheng leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping across the entire plaza from the window.

The three parties were stretched taut within a 150-meter space.

The coffee cup on the windowsill emitted a final wisp of steam; he picked it up and drank the last drop.

Yan Zheng: (˵ꐦ✧ ⌓ ✧˵)

"Mr. System, keep the three Skeleton Soldiers in their standby positions. Do not move."

"Wait for the cleanup."

The Plasma Mutant's purple light arcs expanded to the size of a fist at the lead man's fingertips.

Cyclops's visor dial was twisted to the narrow-beam focus setting.

The foremost Project Purity Agent raised his suppression gun, the muzzle hesitating between three directions.

Yan Zheng tossed the empty paper cup into the trash bin by the window and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

"The show has begun."