Isaac used his Phased Vision to find his mother.

He found her alone in a dim, lavender-scented bedroom, hands pressed to her face, shoulders heaving. She hadn't wanted anyone to see, but the house was full of echoes now; the night had shaken loose long-buried emotions. Isaac paused at the door and, for a breath, considered phasing through and startling her, but seeing her weeping quietly, he knocked softly and waited.

"Isaac?" Her voice was small as she opened the door. She wiped her face, trying to smooth away tears as if they were a mess that could be arranged into neatness.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him. The room smelled faintly of lavender and old books, the same smell that used to lull him to sleep as a child. For a time, they only listened to each other breathe.

"It's nice to see you," she said finally, voice steadier. "Don't worry about me, love. Just take care of yourself."

Her words were simple, but they struck something raw in him. He told her in quiet sentences that he was okay - that he'd found a place, odd as it was, with people who kept him alive.

He didn't detail the gore or the nights sleeping in alleys; instead, he spoke of small things: how the music of a street musician had reminded him of home, how he'd learned to tie a knot with one hand, how he'd learnt to laugh and overcome things.

When he left, she pressed a hand to his cheek for a fraction too long and whispered, "Come back again, okay?"

He walked out lighter than when he had entered - a small, shocking lift under his ribs.

There was one more stop he needed to make. Isaac didn't walk, he phased through the manor.

One heartbeat, he stood in the corridor, the next, his boots seemed to sink like a stone in water. He slid through cool marble and back up again inside his father's office.

The sudden materialisation startled Fletcher Sr. into a knot of colour across his face. He nearly toppled from his desk chair.

"You trying to give this old man a heart attack?" Fletcher Sr. croaked, voice equal parts anger and surprise.

"Yes," Isaac answered bluntly, folding his hands on the desk. He studied his father for a long second.

'Is this really the same guy I was so afraid of? I mean, he still looks pretty scary - bald, muscular and all. But I guess I've just changed now.'

"I still can't believe you're able to appear and disappear suddenly. When did you turn into a mutant? What does it feel like? Do you-"

"I'm not here for a father-son chat." Isaac cut him off, the words a clean blade in the quiet office. He had no patience for apologies or theatre.

He leaned forward. "You're going to help me." The line between casual and command was thin but hard. "Where Seraphina's show will be - I want the following: VIP access and blueprints of the venue. Entrances, exits, service tunnels. Everything."

Fletcher Sr. frowned, fingers drumming against leather. "All you want are tickets to a show?" His disbelief was obvious; the request sounded trivial. "What do you need all that for?"

Isaac's smile was small and unreadable. "You'll see."

He let the pause hang a beat longer, then asked, shameless and practical as always, "Also, an armoury. This manor must have one, right?"

Fletcher Sr. met his son's eyes. For a fraction of a second, the old man saw none of the frightened boy he'd sent away years ago - only the calculated, dangerous man who'd returned to ask for favours on his own terms. A rustle of acceptance passed between them, tacit and quick.

There was a nod. "Yes. There is an armoury. The code is buried with the ledger in the library vault. I can-" For some reason, he felt like helping Isaac.

Fletcher Sr. never did favours without expecting much more in return, but in this case, it was for his own son, and he also didn't want to find out what would happen if he refused.

Isaac shrugged. "No need. I'll find it myself and take what I need."

All Fletcher Sr. could do was watch as Isaac sank back into the ground and disappeared just like that.

"They really do grow up so fast. If only I had kept this one closer, the Fletchers would have been even more unstoppable. And from his ability and friends, I would be an idiot not to make the connection," the man said to himself.

"My son is one of those Mutant Outlaws, the most renowned and wanted group of mutants around the world by the association."

He wasn't sure what to think, but he couldn't help but feel proud and glad that Isaac had finally broken out of his shell.

"Well, he's my son after all," he laughed to himself.

-

Meanwhile, Isaac was floating through the manor in his phased form, like a haunting ghost.

He remembered the manor well enough, or so he thought. Even after living here for most of his life, there were entire wings, floors, and hidden corridors he'd never explored. That was just how massive the place was.

Still, he had a good idea where he would find what he was looking for.

Before heading there, he decided to make a small detour. With a ripple through the air, Isaac phased out of existence and reappeared in Sven's room - startling the man so badly he nearly fell off the bed.

Sven jerked upright, clutching his chest. "You've got to stop doing that, dude! What if I was having some alone time?"

"Now that I'm using my Phased Vision more," Isaac replied dryly, "I'd have seen you do it."

"Ew," Sven grimaced, but a mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. 'Still... that would be a useful ability for a man of culture,' he thought before he could stop himself.

Before he could even finish his perverted thought, Isaac grabbed his arm and phased them both straight out of the room.

"Where are you taking me-!?" Sven's voice echoed and warped as the world around them turned ghostly and weightless. He flinched as they shot straight through a solid wall like smoke.

In this phased state, their bodies were light as mist, drifting through furniture, stone, and steel. Sven hated it - every damned second of it. The world felt wrong, too soft, too thin, like reality itself was a film he could tear through by accident.

"Isaac, I swear if I puke in this state, you'll regret it-"

Isaac ignored him, eyes shimmering faintly as his Phased Vision swept through the manor's interior. Walls peeled away in translucent layers, revealing the skeletal architecture beneath. Rooms flickered past them - guest halls, kitchens, armour-plated doors, even something that looked suspiciously like an underground passageway.

His father had built this place like a fortress.

Finally, they found it...

The armoury!

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.