"Why is this happening?"

Kurogai's voice was low, his crimson gaze sharp with cold fury. This was not what he had planned. He had expected the possibility of unrest—death row prisoners who suddenly gained powers might lash out—but he had taken precautions. Skye had been stationed here specifically to maintain control. That should have been enough.

And yet chaos had still erupted.

With a flicker of focus, Kurogai traced the magical imprints he had placed on Jean and Skye. Their locations surfaced in his mind like burning stars. His eyes narrowed.

"The north wing."

He moved swiftly through the corridors of the orbital base, his presence carving a path through the smoke and ruin. Along the way, twisted figures lunged from the shadows—mutants born from criminal bloodlines, warped by his experiments.

One such figure blocked his path, a man whose flesh had sprouted crimson scales. A spiked reptilian tail lashed behind him, his teeth sharp as razors.

"Heh," the scaled man sneered, recognizing Kurogai's clothes. "Not a prisoner. One of the researchers then? Good. It's been too long since I killed someone who mattered."

He lunged forward with predatory speed.

Kurogai did not flinch. His hand shot out, pale fingers closing around the mutant's skull before the strike could land. The lizard-man's claws scraped harmlessly against his chest as Kurogai's grip tightened.

"Pathetic," Kurogai muttered. "Even insects think themselves predators."

A wet crack split the air. Blood sprayed across the steel wall, the scaled body falling limp to the ground. Kurogai did not spare him another glance. He continued toward the northern cabin, his expression unreadable.

Moments later, he entered the heart of the riot.

The sight that greeted him ignited the fire in his chest.

Inside the vast chamber, Skye stood at the center of a defensive circle, shielding a cluster of scientists behind her barriers of crackling energy. Jean was among them, her face pale, her body weakened by strain and injury. The two women fought desperately, surrounded by nearly a hundred hostile mutants.

And at their head stood a figure Kurogai knew all too well.

Blue skin, yellow eyes that glimmered with cunning malice—Raven Darkhölme, the shapeshifter better known as Mystique.

Kurogai's jaw tightened.

"So this is your doing."

Mystique's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Of course it is. Did you think you could keep me caged forever, Blackwood? You should have killed me when you had the chance."

He remembered the day he had chosen mercy, sparing her only for Charles Xavier's sake. That decision had come back to haunt him.

"You're really seeking death," Kurogai said coldly, his aura rising. "I spared you once, Mystique, because of the professor. But if you dare endanger Jean and Skye, I will not hesitate again."

He pushed forward, blasting aside the lesser mutants who blocked his way with a sweep of burning energy. The ground cracked under the force of his passage. In moments, he stood before Jean and Skye.

"Brother Kurogai, you're finally here!" Skye's relief burst out in a trembling laugh.

"Kurogai, I knew you'd come back," Jean whispered, her voice weak yet filled with quiet joy. Her lips curved faintly despite her pain.

Kurogai's gaze softened as he crouched beside her. "Jean… what happened?"

Blue flame, gentle and bright, sparked to life in his palm. The Phoenix's eternal fire flowed into her, mending the wounds that marred her body. Color returned slowly to her cheeks as she exhaled, the pain easing.

"One of the prisoners," Jean explained quietly, "awakened an ability that suppressed psychic power. I didn't detect it in time, and he targeted me. I couldn't defend myself, and Skye was forced to shield me. That gave Mystique the opening she needed."

Her voice faltered, but the anger in her eyes was clear.

"This wasn't random. It was planned."

Kurogai's expression hardened. It made sense. The cells of the death row prisoners had been too close to Mystique's. With her silver tongue and her hatred for him, it would have been easy to turn them against his people. And of course, she had ordered the first strike against Jean. Mystique knew her well—knew she was the strongest mind here.

"Skye," Kurogai said softly, "you did well."

She gave him a tired nod, still holding her barrier firm.

Finally, he turned back toward Mystique.

His aura flared, the weight of it pressing across the cabin. The mutants shifted uneasily under the invisible force.

"You think I was cruel before," Kurogai said, his voice like ice. "But this time, I won't stop at imprisonment."

Mystique sneered, though there was a flicker of unease in her gaze.

"Hmph. You call it mercy, but you caged me like an animal. You stripped me of everything. Do you expect gratitude? No. I want your blood, I want you to suffer."

Her hatred burned like poison. Years of captivity had hardened it into something sharp and deadly.

Kurogai's response was simple.

"Then you've chosen your own grave."

His killing intent rolled across the chamber, leaving no doubt. Mystique had crossed the final line.

This time, there would be no mercy.