The move happened over the course of a single morning, carried out with a level of efficiency that made it clear Michael had been planning it long before the Ordo Supremus ever sent their invitation. The mansion sat on elevated ground at the edge of the Southern Sector, far enough from the commercial districts to avoid unnecessary traffic, yet close enough that response times would remain short if something went wrong. From the outside, the structure looked understated, almost conservative, but beneath that surface lay layers of reinforced architecture, hardened materials, and redundant systems designed to withstand far more than conventional attacks.Michael walked ahead of the convoy as it passed through the outer gate, his eyes tracking every sensor sweep and automated turret as they powered up in sequence. The security perimeter recognized him instantly, unlocking access in stages rather than all at once. He preferred it that way. Nothing here relied on a sing

Miles beneath the Ocean View Hotel, far below the reach of daylight and far removed from the chaos that had torn through the Southern Sector, Erin sat alone in a sealed operations room surrounded by layered holographic displays. The air was quiet here, thick with the low hum of servers and power conduits running through reinforced walls. It was the kind of place designed to isolate thought, and Erin needed that isolation now.She replayed the footage again.The final phase of the mutant incursion had been recorded from dozens of angles, police drones, civilian cameras, L.A. surveillance platforms, but most of it was fragmented, distorted by electromagnetic interference and the sheer scale of the powers involved. Erin had already spent hours cleaning it, stripping away corrupted frames, compensating for signal loss, and running the visuals through her own enhancement to reconstruct what the machines alone could not.Two figures remained constant i

The docks at night were usually alive in their own way, even after Michael’s influence had spread through the Southern Sector. Cargo cranes moved with mechanical patience, automated haulers traced predictable routes along the concrete lanes, and the sea itself never stopped pressing against the shore with a steady, restless rhythm. Tonight, however, the place felt wrong. Not abandoned in the ordinary sense, but emptied, as if something had passed through and scraped the life out of it without leaving visible damage behind.Michael moved along the edge of the waterfront at a measured pace, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes constantly shifting. The anomaly trail Don had flagged wasn’t something that showed up cleanly on maps or reports. It was more like a pattern of absences: patrols that stopped responding, cameras that recorded hours of static before resuming as if nothing had happened, crews who never checked in again but left behind no signs of a struggle.

The air twisted again, pressure building from all sides, and Michael braced himself as the warehouse seemed to fold inward around them. He dug deep into Burst, pushing his body harder than he ever had before, and leaned into the oncoming force rather than away from it. His boots scraped across the floor, ice cracking beneath them, as he forced himself forward one step at a time.Another wave tore through the space between them, the invisible distortion bending the warehouse floor upward and slamming down with crushing force, but Michael slid out of its path at the last second, his shoulder brushing the concrete pillar instead of shattering against it. He landed hard, boots scraping, breath ragged, but he stayed upright. Igor clicked his tongue in mild annoyance and straightened, rolling his shoulders as if preparing to put real effort into the fight.“You really have the tenacity of a cockroach , don't you?” Igor said, his voice carrying clearly through the wa

Michael did not return to his mansion after the fight at the docks. He went straight to one of the secure L.A. relay points built into the lower levels of the Southern Sector, a place that existed for situations where distance and delay could not be afforded. His clothes were still torn and dusted with frost residue, his body aching in the dull, familiar way that came after pushing himself too hard, but he ignored all of it as the encrypted channel opened and Commander Cane’s face appeared on the screen.Cane took one look at him and frowned. “Michael, what on earth happened to you?”“I ran into someone down at the docks,” Michael replied. “I had no idea who he was, but he seemed to know me and he was very insistent on trying to take my head off.”“Was it someone from the Ordo Supremus?” Cane asked with a dark tone. “They've been strangely silent since Rose's death after all.”Michael shook his head lightly in the negative. “Not this time. The pow