Chapter 158: Countdown

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Time continued to pass, and the world's most-watched kidnapping case was still ongoing. The president's wife and daughter had yet to be rescued, and with each passing second, the moment of the upcoming "show" drew closer.

Some grieved, some raged, but many others were thrilled—eagerly awaiting what was to come.

It was a tragedy, but not everyone saw it that way.

The kidnapper was a genius, but he wasn't a ghost—he couldn't simply vanish from the world.

With such an intense global manhunt underway, traces of him were inevitably found.

Unfortunately, it was a trap—one he had deliberately left behind. And that trap successfully stalled for time.

Over the next several hours, more locations were discovered, but every single one turned out to be a smokescreen, another deception thrown out by the kidnapper.

The president grew increasingly anxious. It felt as if his very soul was floating out of his body, as if the world around him was becoming unreal. He felt like a puppet, manipulated by unseen strings.

The broadcast stage had been fully prepared. It was a last resort—the final opportunity.

Meanwhile, what should have been a night of festive Christmas celebrations had turned eerily silent.

Streets that should have been bustling with joy and laughter were now completely empty. Except for the occasional child running past, everyone had locked themselves indoors, glued to their television screens.

This year's Christmas Eve was destined to be anything but ordinary.

The five-minute countdown began.

Sweating profusely, the president stepped into the recording studio under the watchful eyes of countless spectators.

Everything was ready.

His "partner" had been sedated, washed clean, and prepped to ensure there would be no harm.

The cameraman was in position. The live broadcast equipment was powered on.

It was time.

His wife, his daughter, his power—when all of it was at stake, he made his decision. He would gamble everything.

His dignity shattered alongside the clothes that fell to the floor.

Of course, there was at least one silver lining—after an online poll, his approval rating had unexpectedly risen. In fact, it had reached the highest level seen in several presidential terms.

That was the only solace he could find.

Meanwhile, as the countdown ticked down, Charles and Nick Fury made their move.

Or rather, they had already found the target long ago.

They had simply been waiting.

Waiting for the countdown to dwindle.

Waiting for the president to accept his tragic fate.

Waiting for him to step one foot into the abyss, teetering on the edge of no return—only to pull him back at the last possible moment.

The emotional impact of being saved when all hope was lost would be far greater than a rescue that came an hour too soon.

This was Nick Fury's plan.

As he put it—humiliation was inevitable, so why not seize the opportunity to maximize their own benefits?

Presidents come and go, but an opportunity like this was rare.

Without a doubt, once this was over, Charles would emerge as the primary hero.

When the time came to push forward the X-School initiative, he would almost certainly gain the president's strong backing, facing far less resistance.

And when the details of the event were revealed, Charles would be seen as the hero who saved the poor, helpless president.

"Time to move," Fury said, glancing at the countdown—only two minutes remained.

He still needed time to call the White House.

Charles nodded.

This mission involved only the two of them.

In the next second, Charles pressed two fingers against his temple. Then he turned to Fury and said, "It's done."

Fury, who had barely taken a breath, was momentarily stunned. "That's it?"

Charles nodded. "Call them. Let's go get them out."

Fury pulled out his phone. "On it."

With that, the two stepped into the building.

As the final sixty seconds ticked away, Nick Fury dialed the number.

Meanwhile, inside the broadcast studio, only four people remained: the president, his "partner," a cameraman, and the president's secretary.

The countdown ticked down—one minute left.

The broadcast began.

With a sorrowful expression, the president faced the camera and declared, "For my family, I am willing to make this sacrifice. This is my promise to each and every one of you!"

He took slow, trembling steps forward.

Closer… Closer…

Just as he shut his eyes, clenched his jaw, and steeled himself—his waist already bending in preparation—

"Stop! Stop!"

The secretary suddenly shouted, rushing forward in a frenzy.

She grabbed the dazed president, yanked him back, and quickly pulled his discarded jacket from his arm, wrapping it around his waist.

"Sir! You're saved! They're safe! It's over!" she cried out.

The president froze. His legs went weak, and he collapsed onto the floor before suddenly springing back up, his face flushed red.

He turned to the camera and shouted, "To the great people of this nation—!"

The feeling of plummeting from the heights of power into the depths of despair, only to be yanked back into paradise—it was indescribable.

Cheers erupted across the country. The people rejoiced, though some looked visibly disappointed that they hadn't gotten the "show" they were expecting.

Regardless, the president had been redeemed.

Flushed with relief, he hastily redressed and strode confidently out of the recording studio, embracing those around him.

Not only had he avoided disgrace, but his approval ratings had soared.

The next election? It was as good as his.

At that moment, his thoughts instantly turned to re-election.

A group of officials entered the president's office.

Still basking in the adrenaline of his survival, the president paced back and forth, his mind racing.

"Who? Who saved my wife and daughter?" he demanded, abruptly halting.

His secretary hesitated before answering.

"It was…"

"It was what?"

"It was a mutant."

"A mutant?!"

The president stiffened.

"Yes, sir. Director Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. confirmed it in his report."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.? Wasn't it their operation?"

"No, sir. Only two people carried out the rescue—Nick Fury and a mutant named Charles. It was Charles who saved your family."

The secretary paused before adding, "This is Fury's official report."

Nick Fury?

That bastard wasn't the type to give credit away.

If even he was acknowledging it, then it really must have been the mutant who saved his family.

Praise that mutant!

The president couldn't help but marvel at the thought.

"Charles. His name is Charles, right? I want to see him. Now!"

"They're on their way with your family, sir. They should arrive shortly."

The president nodded, then suddenly frowned.

"Shortly? What do you mean? Where exactly did they find the kidnappers?"

At this question, the secretary's expression turned a little awkward.

"Just five blocks from here, sir."

The room fell silent.

The president's face darkened.

His voice rang out furiously—

"A bunch of incompetent fools!"

(End of Chapter)