It was a Tuesday evening when Bill heard the sirens. He was under a truck in his garage, grease on his hands, when Clara burst in, her face pale. "Bill, it's Lily—they've got her!"He scrambled out, heart pounding. "What do you mean, 'they've got her'?""The police. They're saying she's a mutant. She… she set a tree on fire at the park. They've taken her to the station!"Bill's world tilted. Lily, a mutant? She'd never shown signs—none of them had. He grabbed his jacket and raced to the precinct, Clara beside him, her hands trembling. At the station, they were met with cold stares and a barred door. "She's being processed under the Mutant Registration Act," an officer said, his tone clipped. "You can't see her yet.""She's sixteen!" Bill shouted, slamming a fist on the counter. "She's my daughter!"The officer didn't flinch. "She's a mutant. That's all that matters."Bill felt something snap inside him—a raw, boiling anger he'd never known. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he thought he'd pass out. Then, a voice echoed in his mind, calm and mechanical:
"Template System Activated. Host Emotional Threshold Reached: Anger. Scanning for compatible template…"