On the interstate highway, a mammoth transport truck drove smoothly, following the signal left behind by Miles not long ago.
In the spacious back half of its cargo bed, Dr.
Zander smiled as he handed a bottle of water to Caliban, who was tied to a chair.
“Mr.
Caliban, I hope you understand that we are doing a good thing,” Dr.
Zander’s voice was warm and persuasive.
“You must know that those mutants, especially X-0, are extremely dangerous subversives.
We need to contain them as quickly as possible, so we need your help.
This will prevent more innocent people from being hurt.”
Caliban’s face was bruised in several places, with a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth.
Looking at Dr.
Zander’s smile, he spoke quietly, “My abilities have also degraded severely, just like Logan’s.
The distance is too great; I can’t find where they are at all.”
“…Are you sure you aren’t lying to me?” Dr.
Zander asked seriously.
“How can I prove it to you…
Perhaps I should agree, point you in a random direction to waste your time, and let you kill me once your patience runs out?” Caliban murmured.
“Fuck,” Dr.
Zander cursed, his expression shifting unsteadily.
As for Caliban’s claim that his abilities had degraded severely, Dr.
Zander believed it to be true.
He himself was one of the masterminds behind the initiative to weaken mutant powers through genetically modified food, thereby causing mutants to disappear.
No one knew better than him just how massive an impact GM food had on natural-born mutants.
So, was this Caliban already a useless waste?
Dr.
Zander was in a terrible mood.
Previously, they had been tracking the signal from the locator on Miles to lock onto their position, but just moments ago, the locator signal had vanished.
That thing was embedded directly inside Miles’s head; it couldn’t easily be removed.
The only explanation was that Miles had blocked the signal himself—something his ability could easily accomplish.
So the problem now was that they had lost them.
Dr.
Zander shook his head in disappointment, took a few steps back, and casually said to Antony, who was standing nearby, “Antony, you handle it.”
“Heh, my pleasure,” Antony chuckled, cracking his knuckles as he walked toward Caliban.
Shortly after, a muffled, agonizing scream reached the ears of the others.
Dr.
Zander sat on the edge of the truck bed, smoking a cigarette in frustration, completely ignoring the screams.
Ever since he had nearly suffocated inside the command vehicle last time, he didn’t dare ride in fully enclosed vehicles anymore.
Right now, he was pondering how to track Miles.
Without the locator signal, and with Caliban—their “mutant radar”—failing to work, finding those mutants in a country as vast as the United States would be like finding a needle in a haystack.
*Beep, beep, beep…*
Just then, the satellite phone in his pocket rang.
Dr.
Zander pulled out the phone, saw an unfamiliar number, and after a moment’s thought, picked up.
“Hello, is this Dr.
Zander?” an unfamiliar voice spoke from the other end of the line, yet clearly well-acquainted with Dr.
Zander’s information.
“My name is Davis.
I know you’re looking for a few special ‘assets.’ Perhaps we can cooperate.”
“How do we cooperate?” Dr.
Zander asked warily.
“It’s simple.
We can provide you with the exact location of those ‘targets.'”
“Oh?” Dr.
Zander’s eyes flickered.
“And then?”
“And then, let’s discuss the rest in person,” Davis said over the phone.
“I’m right at the intersection ahead of you…”
Following Davis’s directions, Dr.
Zander had the convoy stop on a secluded roadside.
Soon, a black sedan pulled up, and a man wearing a well-tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses stepped out.
It was Davis.
“A pleasure to meet you, Dr.
Zander.
I am Davis Connor,” Davis said with a smile, extending his hand.
“We are very interested in your target, ‘X-0,’ and would like to learn more.
Here’s to a successful partnership.”
Zander asked, sizing Davis up.
“Apologies, but I can’t share that for now,” Davis shrugged.
“Very well.” Dr.
Zander nodded.
He had a faint suspicion but chose not to voice it, simply shaking Davis’s hand.
“To a successful partnership!”
And so, the two parties struck up an instant alliance.
Shortly after, Dr.
Zander stood before X-24, who was fully prepped and ready to deploy.
He personally removed the micro-earpiece from X-24’s ear, then took out a photograph of Miles.
Holding it up in front of X-24’s eyes, he spoke in a firm, unquestionable tone:
“Remember, I have only one command for you this time!
Bring this little guy back alive!”
“You have free rein this time.
Do not listen to any other voice until you see me again!”
X-24 remained expressionless, his gaze locked onto the photograph, seemingly trying to etch the face deep into his mind.
…
Kansas City, Morgan Bank.
Logan pushed Miles’s wheelchair out of the main entrance, drawing no attention.
Just moments ago, the two of them had gone inside to withdraw money.
Logan had simply withdrawn a hundred dollars in cash, but at the same time, Miles had activated his ability to hack into the bank’s mainframe, transferring a whopping two million dollars into Logan’s account without a soul knowing.
Because bank accounting systems were connected nationwide, it wasn’t feasible for Miles to make two million dollars appear out of thin air, as that would trigger system errors at the bank’s headquarters.
But transfers posed no such issue.
Just as he had said, if he wanted to, he could completely empty the bank without leaving any trace of definitive data.
Of course, this couldn’t be kept a secret forever, but Miles could guarantee that even if the bank noticed, they would never be able to trace it back to Logan or himself through digital forensics.
This was the terror of “Electronic Signal Manipulation.” Although its direct combat capabilities were weak, it was enough to shake the very foundations of modern human society!
Unfortunately, his ability still had its flaws.
The “Electronic Signal Manipulation” power itself was an extension of his “Telepathy,” and his current telepathic range was not large—only about three kilometers.
In other words, for sensitive operations like modifying data, he had to physically be near the system’s mainframe, which was why he had to come to the bank with Logan.
“Shit…”
After withdrawing the money, Logan stared at the newly added balance in his account.
Even though he had prepared himself, he still couldn’t help but feel shocked.
Yet Miles seemed utterly unfazed, complaining to Logan on their way out.
“Tsk, this little amount won’t be enough.
Once I get that thing out of my head, I plan to conduct some ‘other research.’ That’s going to require a lot more money…”
“Shut up.
Let’s head back.”
Ignoring his muttering, Logan simply pushed him back to the car to reunite with Charles and Laura.
Thinking back to the massive sum of money in his account, Logan felt a creeping sense of unease.
Miles’s abilities had clearly far exceeded his expectations.
For a man like Logan, who had fought his entire life, great power often meant greater danger.
It was a very simple question: what would happen if more people found out about Miles’s existence?
A mutant who could control every electronic device in the world and alter data records at will…
No nation or organization on Earth would ever turn a blind eye to that.
With a heavy heart, Logan stepped on the gas and started the car.
“Did you get the money?” Charles asked from the back seat.
“Of course,” Miles nodded.
“I looked up the prices here and the rates at the university medical center.
Given how specialized the surgery I need is, the cost could run over a million dollars.
But it doesn’t matter, we’ve got more than enough.”
“Will the bank find out?”
“Possibly.
After all, humans rely on digital data, but not entirely.
A manual audit will eventually turn something up,” Miles said calmly.
“But it doesn’t matter.
I’ve already wiped all the security footage.
Even if they notice, they won’t find any clues.”
“…”
Old Charles sighed silently, then spoke up, “Promise me, Miles.
Only this once.”
“Why?” Miles countered.
“You know banks in this country always have plenty of money.
A few million dollars is practically nothing in the grand scheme of the US financial system.” Find the original chapter at g.com.
“Miles.” Old Charles looked him in the eye.
“You are very smart.
You know exactly what I mean.
So, promise me—only this once!”
“…” Miles turned his head away and let out a deep sigh.
“Fine…
Damn it, I really don’t get why an old geezer on his deathbed is so stubborn about these things.”
“I am an educator, Miles,” Old Charles said.
“This is my mission.”
“Tsk…
Boring nonsense.”
…
A few hours later, at the Kansas University Medical Center, Central Campus.
Boasting a beautiful environment and state-of-the-art facilities, it was one of the top medical centers in the United States.
Logan pushed Miles in his wheelchair into the hospital lobby.
After speaking with the reception staff, they scheduled an appointment with a neurosurgeon named James.
“I’m sorry, Mr.
Miles…
your situation is rather unique.”
The doctor in front of them, Dr.
James, was around fifty and wore gold-rimmed glasses.
Looking at the test results Logan handed over, he showed a troubled expression.
“First of all, your symptoms are highly complex, particularly since it involves a delicate surgery deep inside the brain.
The risk is extremely high.
Furthermore…
it is not convenient for our facility to accept mutants.”
Logan’s expression darkened, his fists clenching involuntarily.
But then, Miles spoke up calmly beside him, “We can pay extra for the treatment and ensure the entire process remains completely confidential.
We won’t make a scene, and we can sign any non-disclosure agreements if necessary.”
“Is one million dollars enough?”
“This isn’t a matter of money…”
“One point two million.”
“…Excuse me, can you really produce that much money?”
“One point five million,” Miles said calmly.
“I want to be on the operating table within twenty-four hours!”
“This…” Cold sweat broke out on Dr.
James’s forehead as he listened to Miles’s demands.
He said instinctively, “I need to contact the hospital board of directors…”
“Be my guest,” Miles waved a hand.
This was the United States.
Any American knew that as long as you had enough money, no problem was truly a problem.
Soon, after Logan proved they indeed had the financial means to pay, the person receiving them was upgraded to the dean of the Kansas University Medical Center, Dr.
Evelyn Reed.
“Thank you for waiting, Mr.
Logan,” said Dr.
Reed, the female dean in her late fifties, addressing Logan before looking down at Miles.
“We have already assembled a panel of experts.
We estimate we can have a treatment plan ready within two hours, and then we can proceed with your son’s surgery.”
“He is my…
nephew,” Logan corrected awkwardly.
“Yeah, that’s right, I’m his nephew,” Miles agreed with a nod, then added, “By the way, Dr.
Reed, do you happen to have a cousin named Richards who is also a doctor?”
“No, I don’t.
Why do you ask?
Are you close with this Mr.
Richards?” Dr.
Reed asked in return.
“Oh, I was just going to say, if your cousin Richards is on my consultation panel, remember to kick him off.
I don’t want to wake up and find out that instead of getting rid of the little gizmo in the back of my head, they added some weird stuff to it.”
“…” Dr.
Reed frowned, instinctively looking at Logan.
Logan expressionlessly pointed to his own temple for Dr.
Reed.
“Don’t mind him.
He’s got a few screws loose.”